


Easy Money

by nikkithedead



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, M/M, Rough Sex, Teen Wolf AU, paid for sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:15:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2720024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkithedead/pseuds/nikkithedead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teen Wolf AU. Broke college student Jackson Whittemore is constantly worrying about money. That is, until a wealthy CEO named Peter Hale offers him a deal: Sleep with him, and he’ll make it worth his while, financially speaking. For Jackson, this is the perfect set-up… until he realizes he may have feelings for Peter’s nephew, Derek. Trigger Warnings: dub-con.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mr. Self Destruct

* * *

" _I am the sex that you provide; and I control you.  
_ _I am the hate you try to hide; and I control you.  
_ _I take you where you want to go,  
_ _I give you all you need to know,  
_ _I drag you down I use you up,  
_ _Mr. Self-destruct."  
_ — _Nine Inch Nails, Mr. Self-destruct_

* * *

Jackson was at the mall with Lydia when the red haired woman approached him. They'd just been coming out of yet another fantastically expensive shoe store—shopping for Lydia, obviously, not him. The whole trip had been planned that way, to shop for her. Jackson couldn't afford things from the sort of stores they were looking in, not anymore. In fact, it seemed insane to him that anyone  _would_ spend that kind of money on  _anything._ $300 for a pair of shoes? And they were on sale, too—an excellent price, Lydia thought. Had Jackson  _ever_ had that kind of money? He knew he had, years ago... it just seemed, like he'd said, insane. Lydia had rolled her eyes and made a face while she'd handed over her credit card to buy the shoes.

All day long they'd gone into stores that sold things Jackson would never be able to afford, and all day long Lydia had tried to buy him things.  _Jackson, that shirt would look so handsome on you,_ and  _Come on Jackson, it's just one tiny book bag! You have books, don't you?_ Yeah, one small book bag. For $250. He'd told her no, over and over again. Jackson might have been struggling with money, but he wouldn't take hand outs. Not ever.

Not that Lydia saw it that way.

It had been four years since they'd broken up, right at the end of their senior year at high school. Jackson still loved her, of course, and was glad they'd been able to stay friends... but she just didn't understand. Never would, if she was lucky. Not having money blew. He constantly felt like he was lesser, somehow, because he couldn't afford anything.

It was even worse since he'd lost his job. Sure, working as a barista at Starbucks hadn't exactly payed big bucks, but it had still been money coming in. His parents wouldn't let him help with tuition fees, but he'd been able to pay for his own books and transportation. It had been something, at least. And now that was gone, too.

Jackson was frustrated, frustrated with his life and everything about it. There had to be more than this, more to life than this crushing feeling that what he had was not enough.

"Excuse me, sir, could I speak with you for a moment?"

Jackson looked up as he left the store, arms full of Lydia's bags. He was being spoken to by a woman with bright red hair, tied back in what looked like a painfully tight bun. She had a black bluetooth phone accessory in her ear, and carried a crisp black briefcase. Jackson looked around, wondering if he was in trouble.

As if reading his mind, the woman smiled. "You're not in any trouble," She said. Her mouth was the same blood red colour as her hair, and there was something tight and vaguely sinister about her smile.

"What's this about?" Lydia asked, eyes judgmentally roaming over the woman.

"My name is Jennifer Hall, I represent Peter Hale, CEO of Hale Realty," She said, handing him two cards. Hers was white, and stated her name and position in black ink. A standard business card. The other was smooth and black, and Jackson thought it was blank until he tilted it to the side and saw words reflecting light. The difficult to read lettering said  _Peter Hale_ in glossy letters. Jackson thought the card was more fashionable than actually informative. "Mr. Hale has a business proposition for you,"

Jackson blinked a few times, and stared at Jennifer. "A business... you mean a job?" He glanced at Lydia, who looked surprised and suspicious. "He wants to offer me a job?"

Again, the tight, sinister smile. "In a manner, yes," She said.

"I don't know anything about real estate,"

"You wouldn't have to,"

"Why wouldn't he have to?" Lydia asked, her eyes narrowed. "I don't like this, Jackson,"

Jennifer acted as if she hadn't spoken. "If you would give me your contact information, I'll give you a call and arrange a meeting between the two of you," She removed a phone from her briefcase, opened to a screen reading NEW CONTACT.

Jackson took it from her. "Why can't we set up a meeting now? I mean, you're right here. Why do you have to call me?"

"I'd prefer to arrange the meeting over the phone,"

Jackson sighed, and went to enter his number. "Jackson, you're giving her your number? Seriously? She could be a serial killer?!" Lydia hissed. If Jennifer heard her, she gave no indication. Jackson ignored her as well, entered his name and number and handed the phone back to Jennifer.

"Thank you, Mr. Whittemore," She said, not glancing at the phone before putting it back into her briefcase. "We'll be in touch, shortly," She turned away and walked off.

Lydia gaped at him. "I can't believe you did that,"

Jackson shook his head. "Lydia, when the CEO of a massive corporation offers you a job, you don't turn it down on the off chance that they  _might_ be a serial killer," He said.

"Do you hear yourself right now?" Lydia asked. She sighed, and shook her head, looking off towards the direction Jennifer Hall had walked. "She knew your name," She mumbled.

"What?"

"That woman, she knew your last name. She called you 'Mr. Whittemore,'"

"I put it in the phone..."

"She didn't look at the phone, Jackson," Lydia said. "She already knew it,"

* * *

Jackson was nervous the day he met with Peter Hale. The meeting was set for 3:30, and Jackson arrived an hour early. He paced around in the lobby of the hotel, watching the minutes tick by on his watch. Questions were running around his head at break neck speed, and it was giving him a bit of a headache. Why were they meeting in a hotel? How had this guy known who he was? Why did he want to give him a job? What job at his  _realty company_ could possibly be done with  _no knowledge of realty?_

Jackson shook his head, and glanced at his watch again. 3: 25. Time to go.

Jackson took a series of deep breaths, and then headed over to the elevator. The ride up seemed to take forever and at the same time was much too short.

At 3:27, Jackson was standing outside the room where he was supposed to meet him. He took another deep breath, and knocked firmly. After a moment, the door was opened to reveal a good looking man with bright blue eyes and a chiseled jaw. He was cleanly shaven, and probably in his early thirties, although Jackson wasn't all that great at guessing ages.

This, Jackson assumed, was Peter Hale. He didn't know why, but there was something familiar about him. Jackson thought he'd seen him before.

"Jackson," Peter greeted, a enthusiastic smile on his face. "Please, come in," He took a step back, and Jackson entered the hotel room. It was a large room, divided up into three areas: the kitchen, a small living room area, and behind a sheer white divider, the bedroom.

Jackson walked into the living room area, looking around. Peter closed the door behind him, and then offered Jackson his hand. "It's good to finally meet you,"

Jackson shook his hand. Peter's grip was hard, and he squeezed Jackson's hand like he was trying to break it. It ached slightly as he pulled it back. "I'm sorry, but have we... we haven't met before, have we?" He asked uncertainly.

Peter smiled. "I'm surprised you remember—I came into your coffee shop once, a little while back," He said. "You made me a non-fat latte with extra foam," Jackson nodded, vaguely recalling the meeting. Peter gestured to the table and chairs in the middle of the room. "Please, have a seat,"

They sat down across from each other, and Peter began to speak. "You're probably wondering why I've asked you here today—I assume my assistant told you that I have a business proposition for you?" Jackson nodded. "Well, that's not exactly true. The proposition I have is more... personal, than business," Peter paused, as if waiting for Jackson to say something. When he didn't, he continued. "As CEO of a multimillion dollar corporation, I'm a fairly busy man. I don't have time for things like relationships, or dating..."

Jackson raised his eyebrows, wondering at where this conversation was going. Was he going to ask Jackson out on a date?

"That being said," Peter went on, "I am still... human. I have certain needs, certain desires," He raised an eyebrow, as if trying to gauge Jackson's reaction. Jackson was still trying to figure out where the hell this was all going. "Now I know what you're thinking," He went on. "I'm rich, surely I have the means of buying what or whoever suits my pleasures. And you'd be right, of course..." He licked his lips, and looked Jackson over. "But for a while now, I've found that what I desire isn't necessarily for sale," He paused. "At least, not at first. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Jackson did not. Peter was saying he was rich, and he could buy what—or  _who—_ ever he wanted, Jackson had got that much. Did he mean... "You're talking about sex," Jackson said slowly. "You want to pay someone for sex. Someone who's not for sale,"

Peter sat back in his chair and raised his eyebrows. For one stupid moment, Jackson wondered if this was about Lydia. That Peter was going to ask him to arrange something with her. But then he locked eyes with Peter, and the truth finally dawned on him.

Peter wanted to pay  _him_ for sex.

Once he'd got it, it seemed so incredibly obvious that he felt like a moron for not having understood immediately. Of course,  _of course_ that's what this was about. The stiff assistant, the hotel room...

"Do you understand what I'm asking, Jackson?" Peter said once more.

Jackson swallowed. "Do me a favour, run it by me again?"

Peter smiled slyly. "My proposition is this: sleep with me, and I promise I will make it worth your while. Financially speaking,"

"You're serious,"

"Extremely serious,"

Jackson shook his head. "This is, this is nuts..." He said. His mind was turning again, asking a million questions. But this time, one towered above them all;  _how much money?_ Jackson swallowed. He couldn't ask. "How much..."

"Name your price," Peter said, the smile widening on his handsome face.

"I..." He couldn't think. How much money did he need? For school, for books... what was his number? And was he really considering this? Jackson knew the answer. "Can I get back to you?"

Peter nodded, and stood up. "It's a lot to process, I know," He said. "Take some time, think about your answer. When you know what you want, give me a call," Jackson nodded, got to his feet, still feeling numb. He walked towards the door, and Peter put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "'No' is a perfectly fine answer too, Jackson," He said quietly. "I don't want you doing something you're not comfortable with. So think about it, and if the answer is 'no,' then no hard feelings,"

Jackson nodded. He managed some kind of smile, and then left.

* * *

Jackson added up how much money he would need for school, to pay for his books and his transportation for the rest of the year. He added in the cost of occasionally grabbing some food at the cafeteria. He totalled it all up, and then he had his number. And he had his answer, too.

In some ways, Jackson thought he'd made up his mind the moment he'd been asked. He'd stumbled and tripped over himself in front of Peter, had felt numb and ridiculous, as if what had been happening couldn't have possibly been real... but even then, he'd known he was going to say yes. Why wouldn't he? Peter was gorgeous, and he was going to  _pay_ him to have sex with him. There was no foreseeable downside.

Jackson felt calm when he called Peter back. No more stumbling, no more confusion or fear. He knew what he was getting into, and he was more than fine with it.

He wouldn't regret the decision for months.

* * *

When he arrived at Peter's mansion for the first time, he was much less nervous than he'd thought he would be. There were nerves, yes, but it was more like a feeling of tingly anticipation than anything.

Peter greeted him at the door himself, took his coat and hung it up in a closet that was big enough to be a whole separate room. Jackson tried not to gape too much at the massive home he was standing in, with the marble floors and gilded walls and expensive artwork. Still, it wasn't easy. Even when his family'd had money, they'd never had  _this_ much money.

Peter took Jackson upstairs and into his bedroom. It was painted a dark red, and was so big Jackson thought he could fit the first floor of his house into it. Peter dimmed the lights, placed a hand on Jackson's face and kissed him. He breathed in deeply, as if he wanted to savour Jackson's scent. "I'm so glad you said yes," He mumbled.

Jackson smiled, and kissed Peter back. "Me too," He said.

Peter all but tore off Jackson's clothes. They moved down onto the bed as shirts, pants and underwear were discarded and thrown aside. Peter's mouth and hands roamed over Jackson's body, making him cry out. There was an intensity to his movements, a sharpness that was both exhilarating and frightening. Jackson couldn't explain it, but there was a hunger inside Peter that made his kisses sting. When his mouth moved down Jackson's body, Jackson felt as if he were prey about to be devoured.

It was hours before Peter was done having him, hours before his voracity abated and he rolled off of Jackson, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. And as Jackson lay beside him, sore and aching and exhausted beyond belief, he realized he had never been so thoroughly satisfied. He was drenched in sweat and sticky with his and Peter's cum, but he could hardly recall a time he'd felt more wonderful.

"That was amazing," Peter mumbled, echoing Jackson's thoughts. He picked himself up and gave Jackson another harsh kiss, biting at his bottom lip. Jackson nodded, too tired to kiss Peter back. He wondered if he would ever be able to move again. He wondered if he'd ever  _want_ to move again.

Peter pulled away and lay back down, and in a few moments he had fallen asleep. Jackson smiled into the darkness of the room, closed his eyes and did the same.

* * *

It was a little past midnight when Jackson woke up, still sticky and sweaty in Peter's bed. After stumbling around in the darkness for a few minutes, he managed to locate his boxers and t shirt, and headed to the bathroom the clean himself off. There was a low growling in his stomach, and after getting cleaned up and partially dressed, he went in search of food.

Most of the lights were off in the house, and it was very difficult to figure out where he was going. It took him ten minutes to find the kitchen, which seemed like forever to his hungry mind. Finally he located it, flipped on the lights and began to look through the cupboards for something to eat.

He was pulling out a box of Apple Jacks when he discovered he wasn't alone. "Hello,"

Jackson jumped at the sound of the voice, causing Apple Jacks to fly everywhere. He turned around and found someone sitting at the kitchen table, an amused look on his face. "Sorry," He said.

"I—I didn't realize someone else lived here," Jackson sputtered, his heart racing in his chest.

The guy at the table smirked slightly. Like Peter, he was very good looking. He had dark hair, a slightly scruffy beard and what looked like a very well built body. "Two other people live here," He said. "Me and my sister Laura,"

Jackson knelt down and began scooping up the cereal that had fallen on the floor. "And who are you?" He asked.

"I'm Derek. Peter's nephew," He said. "The garbage can is to your right... it pulls out from the counter,"

Jackson stood up, cereal cupped in his hands. He pulled at the section of the counter Derek was talking about, and dumped the cereal into the trash. Then he turned around, and stood their awkwardly, unsure if he should leave or not. His stomach gurgled noisily, making him hesitant to do so.

Derek raised his eyebrows, still smirking, and after a moment Jackson had realized he'd heard his stomach growl. His face turned red. Derek was a complete stranger, and here Jackson was standing in front of him in his underwear, stomach growling and face florid. It was beyond embarrassing.

"Bowls are in that cupboard," Derek said, obviously oblivious to Jackson's embarrassment. "Cutlery is in that drawer. Milk is here," He said, picking up the carton in front of him to emphasize it.

Jackson nodded curtly. He decided that running away now would be the even more embarrassing option, and that the only thing he could do now was finish what he'd started.

Jackson got what he needed from the cupboards and poured some Apple Jacks into a bowl. Then he stiffly took a seat across from Derek at the table.

He could feel Derek watching him as he poured milk into the bowl, and began to eat. Along with the milk, there was also a box of Cocoa Puffs on the table, and Derek had a bowl of the stuff in front of him. Evidently, Jackson hadn't been the only one with a midnight cereal craving.

They ate in silence for a few moments. It occurred to Jackson that Derek seemed far too casual about running into him like this. He swallowed a spoonful of Jacks, and cleared his throat. "He does this a lot, huh?" He asked tentatively.

"Excuse me?"

"Peter, I mean," He clarified. "He must do this a lot,"

"What makes you say that?"

Jackson shrugged. "It just doesn't seem like this is the first time you've had some kind of late night run in with someone in their underwear,"

Derek chewed his cereal and shrugged. "It's not the first time, but it doesn't happen a lot, considering," He glanced down, as if he'd realized he'd said something he shouldn't have.

Jackson smiled. "You mean, considering how often he does this,"

Derek glanced back up, and nodded. "Yeah, that's what I meant,"

Jackson nodded. "I figured this was a regular thing for him. That's how it seemed when he approached me..."

"He approached you? Usually he gets Jennifer to do his dirty work for him," Derek said, shovelling more cereal into his mouth. Jackson glanced down, suddenly feeling a little empty. He thought of Jennifer handing out Peter's business card to hundred of other people, wondered if they were as quick to accept as he was.

Derek seemed to realize the effect his words had, and he tried to correct himself. "I'm not judging you," He clarified. Jackson snorted. "I'm not. I get it," He said.

Jackson raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you do?"

"Well... no," Derek sat back in his seat, trying to explain himself. "I've never needed to worry about money," He said. "I've always just sort of had it. It's not a problem for me. And since I don't understand what it's like to not have it, or to worry about how to get it... and that's what I get. That there's no way for me to understand. So I'm not judging you..."

"Because there's no way for you to know what's it like to be this desperate for money?" Jackson finished.

Derek shrugged. "Essentially,"

"Thanks, thanks a lot," Jackson muttered, stirring his cereal around. "Honestly I think I'd prefer judgment over pity,"

"It's not pity,"

"Oh? What would you call it then?"

"Indifference,"

Jackson looked at him. "Fine. So long as it's not pity," He took a few more bites of his cereal, staring down at the swirling red and green O's. He wished Derek would leave already, so he could glower in peace.

A few minutes passed, and Derek finally finished up his cereal. He stood up and cleared away his bowl. "We should do this again sometime," He said dryly.

Jackson snorted. "Yeah, see you around," He muttered.

The corner over Derek's mouth turned up into a wry smile, and he left the kitchen.

A few minutes after Derek's departure, Jackson finished up his own cereal. He cleaned his bowl and headed back to Peter's room, where Peter was still soundly asleep. Jackson slipped silently back under the covers. It took him a while to fall asleep.

* * *

Peter called Jackson two days later, saying he wanted to see him again. He couldn't stop thinking about him, he said. Flattered, and not uninterested, Jackson agreed.

This time, Jackson had barely gotten through the door when Peter pulled him in and kissed him, mouth hot and eager, hands fumbling with his belt buckle as they backed towards the stairs. By the time they slammed the door in Peter's bedroom, Peter was shirtless and Jackson had his pants down around his ankles. At first they didn't even make it to the bed; Peter fucked him up against the wall, kissing and biting his shoulder from behind as he nails dug into Jackson's hips.

Peter came before Jackson, still inside of him. Before Jackson could even get his hands around himself to finish himself off, Peter yanked him backwards and threw him back on the bed. Then he got on his knees and sucked Jackson off until he came, arms wrapped around Peter's head and back arched in fucking bliss.

Everything they would do that night would leave him raw and aching for days.

Hours and countless orgasms later, Jackson once around woke near midnight with hunger in his gut. He wrestled with it for a few moments, not wanting to move from his comfortable place under the covers. But eventually hunger won over laziness, and he swung his legs over the bed. This time, before he left the room, he pulled his pants on over his boxers, just in case.

As to whether Peter's nephew Derek would be in the kitchen again, Jackson had his answer before he'd entered the room, seeing the light on as he approached. Last time Derek had been sitting in the dark with his cereal, but this time Jackson found him at the table reading a book while he ate.

"Fancy seeing you here," Jackson said, walking into the kitchen and heading over to the pantry. He felt none of the embarrassment or awkwardness he'd felt last time they'd met. He supposed not being half naked may of had something to do with it. Whatever feelings of resentment he'd gathered towards him in their first meeting seemed to be gone as well. After all, what did he care what Derek thought of him?

Instead of Apple Jacks he pulled out a box of Frosted Flakes. The Cocoa Puffs, he noticed, had been left in the cupboard as well. He saw that tonight Derek was eating Lucky Charms.

"You're back," Derek noted, looking up over the top of his book as Jackson poured himself a bowl, and then sat down next to Derek. "I guess Peter liked you,"

"Guess so," Jackson agreed, pouring milk onto his flakes. "What are you reading?"

Derek closed the book and showed him the cover. It was an old looking book, and depicted a beast ripping into someone's body. "The Book of Werewolves, by Sabine Baring-Gould," Derek said.

Jackson raised his eyebrows. "What?"

Derek glared at him, and put the book down. "It's the first serious academic study of shape-shifters in mythological lore." He said. Jackson continued to stare at him, waiting for him to say he was joking. "Look, you asked okay,"

"Okay, okay," Jackson said, sensing he'd hit a nerve. "I'm not judging you..."

"Uh huh," Derek muttered.

"Really. I mean, I think it's really weird and a little bit creepy, but I'm not judging you. You can like whatever you want,"

"Thanks, I appreciate that," Derek drawled.

"No problem," Jackson said. He took a few bites of his cereal, looking at Derek. "So, is it just werewolves or are you into all kinds of things like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like supernatural stuff. Vampires, ghosts, witches, whatever," He said, shrugging.

Derek spooned some cereal into his mouth, and chewed slowly. "I guess," He said. "I mean, I'm not a fanatic or anything, but it interests me. It's kind of a hobby,"

"Most guys just watch sports," Jackson advised.

Derek rolled his eyes at him. "I watch sports, too," Derek said.

"Really?" Jackson asked. Despite Derek's appearance, Jackson had just been mentally chalking him up to a massive dork. Of course, he should know better than most people that being into sports didn't necessarily negate dorkdom. His best friend Danny was proof of that. "What sports?"

"Basketball, baseball,"

Jackson nodded. "Lacrosse is my favourite," He said.

Derek snorted. "Lacrosse? With the sticks? Seriously?"

Jackson glared at him. "Yeah, with the sticks," He said. Derek snorted. "Shut up, it's a good game. I used to play in high school,"

"Any good?"

"The best," He said, grinning. Derek rolled his eyes. "I was, really. But uh, the best in a small high school league isn't exactly the same as being good enough to go professional, so..." He shrugged. "I couldn't even get a scholarship. Matt was so smug about it, I wanted to punch him,"

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Matt?"

"Oh..." Jackson glanced down. He hadn't meant to mention Matt. "My ex... I don't want to talk about it," He muttered.

Derek nodded. "Yeah, I've got an ex like that too," He said. "So what are you doing now, since lacrosse didn't work out?"

Jackson shrugged again. "I'm in school, I'm an undeclared major, taking some classes on philosophy, and psychology, and a bunch of different crap, I don't know,"

"I've been there," Derek mumbled.

"Yeah? What'd you do?"

"Dropped out early and took a job in the family business," He said.

"Thanks, that's helpful," Jackson replied.

Derek shrugged. He paused, looking at Jackson. "You know, I never got your name," He said, surprising Jackson.

"I thought you were indifferent to me," Jackson replied cooly.

Derek rolled his eyes. "Holding on to that, are you?"

"It's possible,"

Derek shook his head. "Fine, forget it,"

"Jackson," He said. "My name is Jackson,"

Derek looked up at him. A hint of a smile appeared on his face, and he reached across the table, extending his hand. "Nice to meet you, Jackson," He said. Jackson shook his hand firmly. Derek's grip was easier than his uncles, still firm but without the same crushing intensity. His hand was warm, and his skin surprisingly soft. Jackson withdrew his hand, and they went back to their cereals.

* * *

Jackson began to see Peter regularly. If sleeping with him once had been able to pay for his books, transportation and food all year, then sleeping with him a few times a week would be able to make a serious dent in his tuition.

The sex continued to be incredible, although Jackson couldn't help but notice that Peter seemed to get more ferocious and esurient each time. It was if he was searching to satisfy some deep need that he didn't quite understand, and growing more and more insistent each time they were together. Jackson quickly came accustomed to leaving Peter's house sore and limping, and sometimes remaining that way for days. It wouldn't have bothered him so much, if he hadn't reminded him so much of  _him._

But the pros vastly outweighed the cons. For the first time in forever, Jackson had some money. Most of it would go to school, of course... but some he could still use on himself. If he wanted to go out to lunch with Lydia, he could. When the went to the mall, if something caught his eye he could buy it for himself. It felt wonderful, like freedom.

Jackson was happier than he'd been in a long time... but something else continued to nag at him. He couldn't describe what it was, only that it gnawed at him in the middle of the night. He supposed it was a kind of emptiness, a craving for something Jackson couldn't quite place. He didn't know why, but what he was doing with Peter, even with all of its perks, it was leaving him wanting  _more._  What that meant, Jackson couldn't say. He wondered if that was what Peter was searching for in him. Something more.

As sleeping with Peter became a regular thing, so did his midnight cereal dates with Derek. Each night Jackson would make his way down to the kitchen, and every night without fail, Derek would already be there. They would talk for a while as they ate their cereal, about whatever was on their minds; sports, Jackson's school, Derek's trouble at work—he wasn't thrilled about his job, as he thought his superiors coddled him and gave him less difficult work than he knew he was capable of doing—whatever happened to come up. Sometimes they would discuss Derek's strange fascination with the supernatural.

"It's called a kanima," Derek explained, a light in his eyes that Jackson only saw when they discussed strange mythical creatures and lore.

"And it's like a werewolf?" Jackson asked.

"Not exactly—it's more like a mutation of the werewolf gene," He said. "See, the kanima is  _supposed_ to be a werewolf, but something went wrong when it got turned,"

"What exactly? I mean, what causes someone to be a kanima?"

Derek shrugged. "It's difficult to say. Certain bits of lore say that the shape you take reflects the person you are inside, so it would vary... I found one text that was more specific. It said that the kanima doesn't know who it is, it hides from itself. That's why the kanima doesn't know its own reflection, and has no will of its own. And why when the wolf seeks a pack, the kanima seeks a master,"

"That sucks," Jackson mumbled. He sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. "I bet I'd be a kanima, if some werewolf ever bit me,"

Derek rolled his eyes. "Shut up,"

"I'm serious. Doesn't know who it is? Got that. I've got no idea of who I'm supposed to be and crap. And as for seeking a master, well, I do have Peter..."

Derek made a noise of disgust, and focused on his cereal. "Don't say things like that," He muttered. "I don't want to hear about the things you and Peter do,"

Jackson grinned. "Alright, sorry," He said. Jackson tilted his head to the side. "Can I ask you a question?"

"If I said  _no_ would that stop you?"

"Probably, yeah,"

Derek sighed. "Go ahead,"

"Do you really believe in this stuff?" Jackson asked. "I mean, the supernatural? Kanima's and werewolves? Do you think it's or real, or is it just stories to you,"

" _No_ I don't think it's  _real_ Jackson, _"_ Derek grumbled. "I know it's all stories, I'm not a moron." Jackson raised his eyebrows. Derek glared at him, and then looked away. "I used to believe it," He said. "When I was younger, my Mom was really into this stuff too. She used to tell me all kinds of stories, and I always thought that they were real. Obviously now that I'm older, I know better... but..."

"But... ?" Jackson pressed.

Derek shrugged, obviously trying to seem nonchalant. "I don't know. I guess there's still a part of me—a small, stupid part—that wishes it  _were_ real. I mean, I know it's nuts but, I can't helping wishing there was more out there, more than just jobs in an office building and making money and paying bills and living a mundane life..." Derek shook his head. "I'll shut up now,"

"No, it's cool, I get it," Jackson said, feeling a familiarity in Derek's words. "I think about that sort of thing too. I mean, not werewolves and junk, but the part about wishing there was more... I get that,"

Derek nodded, and stirred his Froot Loops.

"So, your Mom... where's she?" Jackson asked, changing the subject. "Do your parents have a mansion down the street from here?"

Derek shook his head. "No, they're dead. Most of my family is," He said. "There was a huge fire when I was about 16. Me, Laura and Peter were the only survivors,"

Jackson's mouth opened as the horror of Derek's words washed over him. He'd had no idea, not a clue. "I—I'm sorry—"

Derek just shrugged. "I still have Laura..." He said. "And Peter, I guess. We get by," Jackson continued to stare at him, at a complete loss for what else to say. How do you move on in a conversation from something like that? What could he possibly say next? Derek looked up sharply, as if he could sense Jackson's thoughts. "Don't get all weird now, alright," He demanded. "I know it's a fucked up thing to hear, but can we just skip the part where you walk on eggshells around me and get back to a normal conversation?"

Slowly, Jackson closed his mouth. He nodded. "Yeah," He said. "Yeah..."

"You mentioned you were thinking of dropping your philosophy class? How come?" Derek asked, steering the subject back to something safe. "No interest in uncovering the secrets of our universe?"

Jackson snorted. "It's Philosophy 101. I don't think they let you tackle the secrets of the universe until at least 502. But it's not that. It's my teacher, Professor Gibson. He does this really irritating thing with his mouth whenever he ends a sentence—like he's sucking in his saliva." Jackson shuddered. "I can't take it,"

Derek stared at him, unimpressed. "So you're going to drop it because the teacher annoys you?"

"Basically, yeah,"

Derek shook his head. "That's stupid,"

"Thanks a lot,"

"You're welcome. It is,"

"Says you,"

"Yeah," Derek agreed. "Says me,"

* * *

They'd been fucking for a little over a month when Peter finally asked him. It was early in the evening, and they were lying in Peter's enormous four poster bed, breathing heavily and waiting to be recovered enough to go again. Jackson was on his back, the sheets tangled around his waist. Peter was propped up on one elbow looking at Jackson with his usual hungry expression, but not touching him. Outside of sex, Jackson found that Peter rarely did touch him. It was as if there was no point to it, if it wasn't going to lead to fucking.

Out of the blue, Peter asked "Where do you go every night?"

Jackson blinked a few times, pulled out of his thoughts by the question. "Oh... uh, the kitchen," He replied, feeling strangely embarrassed, as if he were admitting to doing something he shouldn't have been. "I get hungry... so I have a midnight snack," He shrugged, trying to seem casual. It wasn't a big deal, after all.

"Mmm, I make you hungry, do I?" Peter leaned in and bit the lobe of Jackson's ear. Jackson figured that meant he was ready for another round.

Jackson nodded, strangely relieved that the conversation was already over. He couldn't explain why, but there was something about his midnight talks with Derek that he didn't want Peter to know about.

Peter put his hand against Jackson's chin, tilting it upwards to expose Jackson's throat to him. They talked no more that night.

* * *

The rain was coming down in sheets, and the harsh wind stung Jackson's skin. Thunder rumbled and lightning crackled above him as he ran up the driveway from the taxi, covering his head with his jacket. When he got to the massive double doors he rang the bell once, then again when he received no response. Jackson wiped at his face, then realized there was no point; amongst the rain, no one would be able to tell that he had been crying. He suspected his puffy red eyes may give him away, but there was nothing he could do about that.

When no one came to the door, Jackson rang the bell again a few times, and pounded on the wood. The rain had soaked through all of his clothing, and he couldn't stop shivering. A fresh wave of tears began to trickle from his eyes, mingling with the rain water. It had been a long time since he'd felt quite so hopeless and lost, and now he was standing in the rain crying like a little bitch. He added  _pathetic_ to the list, too. Hopeless, lost and pathetic he stood outside of the Hale mansion, desperately praying for someone within the massive home to hear him.

Finally, just as Jackson was on the verge of calling yet another taxi to take him somewhere—Lydia's, perhaps—the door opened. Derek stood in the doorway, frowning. "Jackson?"

"Can I come in?" Jackson asked, his voice sticking in his throat.

Derek stepped back to allow Jackson to enter, and he rushed inside to the dry and the warmth. "Christ, you're soaking wet. How long were you out there?"

"A few minutes, I think," Jackson muttered, pulling off his sopping jacket. He shivered slightly.

"I was in the basement, it's hard to hear the bell from there..." Derek apologized. He looked him over. "You know, Peter isn't home..."

Jackson closed his eyes. "Of course he isn't," He mumbled, feeling like an idiot. He should have called first, should have made sure Peter would  _be there_ when he showed up. "I'll go,"

He began to pull his coat back on, but Derek stopped him. "Don't be stupid, you're not going anywhere. It's crazy out there," As if to emphasize his point, there was a clap of thunder so loud that Jackson actually felt the house rumble slightly. Derek raised his eyebrows. "You're staying, give me that jacket,"

After Derek hung his jacket up in the closest, he turned back to Jackson. "Come upstairs, I'll give you a change of clothes to wear. The ones you're wearing are completely soaked, you'll probably catch a cold and die in them,"

"I doubt I'd  _die,_ " He mumbled, but followed Derek upstairs anyways. There Derek gave him a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved black shirt. Jackson changed in the washroom, closing his eyes as he pulled the warm dry clothes over his goose-pimpled skin.  _Warmth._

When he was changed, he handed Derek his wet clothes, and Derek put them in the dryer. "I'm surprised you know how to work that thing," He commented. "Don't you have a maid to do your clothes for you?"

Derek glared at him. "That doesn't mean I've  _never_ done laundry in my life," He said. "I have... a few times,"

"And where are the maids tonight?" Jackson asked, thinking that if one was around then they probably would have answered the door faster than Derek.

"Peter gave them the weekend off, since he and Laura are out of town for the next few days,"

Once again Jackson shut his eyes. "Fuck," He muttered. When he opened his eyes again, Derek was giving him a questioning look. "I  _knew_ that," He said. "Peter told he would be away and I just—I completely forgot. I shouldn't have come here, I'm sorry,"

"It's okay, really," Derek insisted. "I was sort of bored, anyways. Besides, I ordered some chinese food and I think I got enough for about six people, so it's good to have someone else here to eat some, since leftovers usually just get thrown out,"

"Well, I can usually eat for about three people, so you may not have as much leftovers as you'd think," Jackson said.

Derek nodded, "I can eat about the same,"

"Then I guess we'll have the perfect amount of food,"

Derek grinned, and Jackson smiled back. Suddenly he didn't feel so lost or hopeless after all.

* * *

Derek had not been lying when he'd said he ordered food for six people. Six  _hungry_ people, too.

" _Why_ would you order this much food? _"_ Jackson asked, taking in the kitchen table, buried under what seemed like dozens and dozens of flimsy chinese food containers. "I mean, you thought it was just going to be  _you_ right? Do you usually eat this much by yourself? Because if you do, you should be like a thousand more pounds than you are,"

Derek glared at him, and then shrugged his shoulders. "I just got what we usually order," He said. "It didn't really occur to me until afterwards that two thirds of the people who are usually here to eat it all... aren't,"

Jackson shook his head, and they sat down and began to eat. Jackson piled his plate high with all of the different dishes, his stomach grumbling ravenously. He hadn't realized he was so hungry until the food was in front of him, and he began to scarf things down as quickly as he could.

"Slow down," Derek cautioned, sounding amused. "The food isn't going anywhere,"

Jackson swallowed a large mouthful of lemon chicken and wiped his mouth. "Sorry, I just... I'm hungry,"

"I can see that,"

Jackson made himself go slower, not wanting to choke in front of Derek. They ate in silence for a few minutes. As he ate, Jackson could feel Derek watching him. "Okay, what?"

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Derek asked.

Jackson stirred his beef fried rice around with his fork. "What happened with what?"

Derek gave him a look. "Jackson, come on. You show up here out of the blue, you look like you've been crying... something happened. What?"

Jackson sighed. "It... it's nothing," He said. "Just a fight, with my parents..." He sighed, not wanting to get into it. Derek continued to look at him. Jackson put his fork down. "I tried to give them money for my tuition. They wanted to know where I got it from,"

"And you... told them?"

Jackson put his face in his hands, and nodded slowly. "They did  _not_ take it well," Jackson mumbled, his words muffled by his hands.

"Can't imagine why,"

He took his hands away from his face. "I just, I wish they would just  _understand!_ It's not a bad thing—so I'm sleeping with someone for money, it's  _not_ a big deal. We—we need the money, and I like Peter and—everyone wins. It's just—I  _need_ to do this,"

"Why, do you think?"

"Because I  _refuse_ to be helpless, or useless," He snapped. "My parents are stretching themselves  _so thin_ to be put me through school and I  _hate_ sitting around not being able to do anything to help. And—and I hate not being able to afford anything! Not my books, or the bus or a fucking  _book bag_ if I want it! I hate it, and I won't do it anymore," He took a deep breath. "I need to do this. To help my parents... and... and to help me,"

Derek nodded. "Did you explain that to them?"

He ran his fingers through his hair. "No, not in so many words," He said. "They were shouting, so I started shouting and things got out of hand... I said some things I didn't exactly mean,"

"You'll fix it," Derek said. "They're your family, you'll sort things out. You'll talk, explain things properly..."

"They still won't understand,"

"Probably not, no," Derek said. Jackson made a grumbling noise. "Come on Jackson, it's not exactly an easy thing for people to just  _deal with,_ I mean they're your parents for christ sake how did you think they were going to react?"

"I don't know—I guess I knew they wouldn't like it, but I didn't think they'd get as mad as they were..."

"Can you blame them?"

" _Yes,_ I can,"

Derek gave him a look, and Jackson waved a hand at him. "Fine, fine, so I  _shouldn't,_ I know that. Doesn't mean I don't anyways,"

"Whatever, do what you want,"

"Thanks for that, I  _will,_ "

Derek shook his head, moving his food around on his plate with his fork. He didn't say anything. The only sound was the growing storm raging outside, the rain beating against the windows and the wind howling. The rumbling thunder was growing closer, and the bright flashes of lightning were more frequent.

Derek's silence bothered Jackson. Derek was quiet a lot, but it was usually more of a comfortable, unassuming quiet. This silence felt like a judgment. "Look, can you not be pissed at me too? I know I'm not handling this right, alright? I just... don't how how else to handle it,"

Derek sighed, and looked up. "I'm not mad, I just... I'd hate to see something like this fuck up your family,"

In lieu of saying something, Jackson slowly twirled his fork in some lo mein. He got why this was so important to Derek, it was pretty obvious: Derek's family was gone. He would never have another fight with his parents, never see them again or hear their voices. And here Jackson was turning away from them...

"I'll talk to them," Jackson said. "I will, I'll try and explain as best I can just... not tonight. I need some time, they _definitely_ need some time..."

Derek nodded. "Take some time," He said. "And you can stay here as long as you need to,"

"Seriously?" Jackson asked, furrowing his brow. He thought he'd been overstepping his bounds by staying the  _night._

Derek shrugged. "Why not? It's a huge house, it's not as if we don't have the space for you..." He glanced down. "Peter would want you to stay," He muttered.

Jackson blinked. "Okay," He said. "If that's what Peter would want..."

They finished eating, and began the annoying process of cleaning up. There was little to no space in Derek's enormous fridge, and it was like a game of tetris trying to fit all the half-empty containers inside. Finally they were able to fit everything in, though Jackson suspected that opening the fridge again might cause an avalanche of chinese food to spill forth. Hopefully it would be okay.

"Want to watch a movie?" Derek asked, once the kitchen was clear of food and plates.

Jackson shrugged a shoulder. "What'd you have in mind?"

"I don't know, I'm sure we can find something. Laura is a serial movie-downloader, she has everything," Derek walked out of the room, gesturing for Jackson to follow. They went down a spiral staircase into the basement, and Derek flicked the lights on.

Jackson blinked a few times, surprised to suddenly find himself inside a movie theatre. "What the...?"

Derek smiled. "The Laura Theatre," He said. "Her 2007 pet project. She was obsessed with having the perfect home theatre,"

Jackson turned around on the spot, taking it in. It looked like an honest to god theatre—rows of seats, four chairs wide, ascended in front of a huge hanging screen. Off to the side was a full concession stand, complete with a popcorn maker, a fountain drink dispenser and all kinds of different chocolate bars and candies. "She did a good job," He said, impressed.

"Sometimes she has screening parties, and gets one of the maids to run the concession stand," Derek said. "It's fun," He went over to a ledge by the screen and picked up a tablet, began scrolling through it. "All her movies are on this thing, it controls the screen and the projector," He explained. "Name a movie,"

"Hoosiers," Jackson said, naming the first movie that came to mind.

Derek punched something in on the tablet. "Got it," He said. "Want to watch it?"

"Have you seen it?"

"Yeah, a couple of years ago,"

"We don't have to watch it then," Jackson said, walking over to where Derek stood. "Let's find something neither of us have seen,"

They wound up settling on the movie  _Sin City._ Derek said Laura had been trying to get him to watch for a while, and he hadn't gotten around to it. Jackson agreed, because he'd never seen it either and he was curious about it... but he felt uneasy.

"Would it be alright if I grab some  _Maltesers_?" Jackson asked, gesturing towards the concession stand.

"You're not seriously still hungry?" Derek asked, over top of the tablet. Jackson shrugged, and Derek shook his head. "Help yourself to whatever you want,"

"Thanks..." Jackson grabbed the chocolate from the stand, and walked over to a seat in the middle of the theatre. Derek sat down next to him, still fiddling with the tablet. The screen in front of them turned bright blue, and then switched to a black and white menu screen.

"Ready?" He asked. Jackson shrugged, and nodded. Derek frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jackson said, knowing he didn't sound convincing. He didn't really want to talk about it... but somehow, it seemed like a part of him did. It was a confusing way to feel. "I just... it's stupid," He mumbled. Derek didn't seemed bothered.  _"Sin City_ was Matt's like, all time favourite movie. _"_

"Matt... that's your ex?" Derek asked. Jackson nodded. "We can watch something else, if it reminds you of him,"

"It's ok, I want to see it, I just... I don't know, I feel weird finally watching it. He'd be pissed, probably, because I haven't read any of the comics it's based on," Jackson rolled his eyes. "He was always moaning about that crap..."

"Screw him," Derek said. "You can watch whatever the hell you want,"

Before Jackson could respond there was a ferocious crash of thunder, and everything went dark around them. The blue glow from the tablet was the only source of light left in the basement, and Jackson saw Derek shut his eyes. "Power outage," He muttered.

"You think?"

Derek glared at him, and stood up.

They made their way back upstairs, and Derek walked into the living room, which had a large window that took up almost the entirety of the wall. He stood in front of it with his hands in his pockets, watching the rain pelt the glass. Lightning flashed, a violent bolt cutting across the stormy sky. A moment later, another powerful clap of thunder shook the house.

Derek sighed. "Tea?" he asked.

"Sure,"

Derek made them some tea, and they sat in the dark living room and watched the storm.

"Probably better this way," Jackson commented, as another flash of lightning lit up the room.

"How so?"

"I don't know, I felt sort of weird watching the movie anyways..."

"Then why did you  _agree_ to it?"

Jackson shrugged. "I do  _want_ to watch it—I just, I don't know. I feel weird about it, too. But I wasn't going to let that stop me, I mean I can't let him control my life, can I? 'Oh, Matt liked that movie, guess it's ruined for me forever now.' It's dumb,"

"It might seem dumb, but sometimes that's what happens. Not much you can do about it. My ex always had spearmint gum on her. She chewed the stuff all the time. Now I can't stand it. I smell spearmint and I get angry. It might be dumb, but it's not like I can help it. And I'm not going to go out of my way to smell spearmint gum.  _That_ would be really dumb,"

Jackson frowned. "I guess..." He muttered. "I mean, that makes sense. I just... I don't, I mean it was  _high school_ when we dated, I shouldn't still be carrying him around like this in my head, right? Sometimes I think he's haunting me..."

When the lightning flashed, Jackson saw Derek giving him a strange look. " _Haunting_ you?"

Jackson turned his mug around in his hands, gripping it. "Did I not mention that he died?"

"No, Jackson. You left that bit out,"

He sighed. "We weren't dating at the time... we'd been off for about 3 months. It was raining, he lost control of his car, swerved off a bridge into the lake. Drowned,"

"I'm sorry,"

"It's... I mean, it's..." He shrugged, knowing Derek wouldn't be able to see him. He shook his head. He didn't want to talk about Matt, hated going over this. "If you knew him, you'd know it was even worse than it sounds. He... when he was a kid, he fell in this guys pool. Almost drowned. He had nightmares about it, his whole life. He was  _convinced_ he'd died, just for a moment. It really... it messed with him, you know? He wouldn't even take baths. For him to go that way..."

Jackson felt Derek's hand on his shoulder. "That's awful," He said.

"Yeah, well... don't feel  _too_ bad for him, the guy was an asshole. I mean, a  _real_ asshole. He had problems, there was something seriously wrong with him. So it's shitty he had to die, and especially in that way, but... I'm not as broken up about it as you'd expect..."

"Did he... he hurt you?"

Jackson looked up sharply. "What?"

"Sorry, I just... the way you sounded, made me think..." Derek paused. "It's not my business,"

Jackson was quiet for a minute. "He did," He said quietly. It occurred to him that he'd never really talked about this before. "He used to..." Jackson breathed in through his nose. "Sometimes he was fine, you know? I mean, we never exactly had what I'd called an idyllic relationship—first of all, I was seeing someone else the entire time we were together,"

"You were cheating on him?"

"No, I was cheating  _with him,_ on a someone else... Her name's Lydia. We're actually still friends,"

"Does she know? About Matt?" He asked.

"She knows I cheated on her, yeah... she doesn't know about the other stuff,"

Derek's voice was soft. "You don't have to tell me about it, if you don't want to,"

Jackson sighed. "I don't know, I mean—I  _don't_ want to talk about it, ever... but I guess part of me does. I don't know," He muttered. He ran his hand over his hair, messing it up. Derek was quiet. "I spent a lot of time blaming myself for it... I know how that sounds, and on some level I get that it wasn't my fault... but I also can't help thinking, if I'd been better to him..."

"You mean, if you weren't cheating with him?"

Jackson shrugged a shoulder. "That too, but there was more. I mean, we were both in the closet—really,  _really_ in the closet. For the first few months, we couldn't even look at each other without being drunk. That's how it started, really. We would get drunk and screw, then pass out. And then at school, I wouldn't even look at him. He was on my lacrosse team, and I never... I ignored him as much as possible. So when he started... doing what he did, I blamed myself. I thought 'if I could just own up and be with him properly, he wouldn't do this,'" He sighed. "I know, it's stupid,"

Derek's found it's way to his shoulder again. "It's not stupid," He said. "It's wrong, but it's not stupid. If he hurt you, it's because of something wrong with him, not because of anything you did. And didn't deserve it,"

"I know I didn't deserve it, I just... I know he was wrong, I know what he did was wrong, but for some reason I can't make myself stop thinking that it  _was_ my fault, in some way. Even now, even all these years later... even now that's dead... "

"I know," Derek said. His hand gave Jackson's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I get it,"

"You do?"

"That ex I mentioned, with the spearmint... she was the first person I ever dated. I was 16, she was... older. We had to keep it a secret. She didn't want people to get the  _wrong idea,_ " He snorted bitterly. "After the fire, she left me. It turns out she was a lawyer, working for my family's business competitors. They were trying a build a case against my father, charge him with embezzling. She was only with me to try and get evidence. After they died, she told me the truth. Said there was no point anymore,"

Jackson's mouth opened slightly. "That's... that's awful,"

"I know..." Derek mumbled. "Even after I knew the truth, I still... I mean, I still  _loved_ her. And I blamed myself for her leaving. I thought, if I'd been better, she would have stayed. Despite everything, she would have stayed with me..." He took a deep breath. "It took me a long, long time to realize that I'd done  _nothing_ wrong. She used me, she lied to me and she manipulated me. And that wasn't my fault. And it's not yours either. Whatever he did... nothing you did deserved that. Nothing,"

Jackson stared through the darkness, at what little of Derek he could make out. "I just wish I could get him out of my head..."

"You will, one day," Derek said. "I promise,"

The lights flickered back on then, and Jackson squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, unaccustomed to the brightness.

Derek looked at his watch. "It's almost midnight, we should probably head to bed... come on, I'll show you to the guest bedroom,"

Jackson followed Derek upstairs, down the hall and around the corner from Peter's bedroom. "There should be some basic toiletries under the sink in the washroom," Derek said. "Toothbrush, toothpaste..." Jackson nodded. They stopped outside the bedroom. "Well... goodnight, Jackson,"

Jackson looked up at Derek, giving him a half smile. "Goodnight, Derek," He said quietly. "And... thanks. For listening to me whine and crap,"

"It was no problem," He said. "And if you ever want to talk, I mean... I'm here,"

Jackson nodded.

Although he'd said goodnight already, Derek continued to linger. He looked Jackson in the eye, and Jackson had the strange idea that Derek was thinking of kissing him. The thought surprised him... even more surprising, the thought that he wouldn't have minded if he had.

But Derek just gave him a small smile, and then turned away and left him standing alone in the hallway.

That night, Jackson lay awake in bed, listening to the rain and thinking about the night he'd just had. It seemed impossible that he'd really talked about everything that he had with Derek. Even though he hadn't given him any specifics, he'd told Derek more about what Matt had done than he'd ever told anyone. What was about Derek that had made him open up like that?

And what Derek had told him... that couldn't have been easy for him. Jackson felt strange, having heard something so personal. He wondered if this would change things between them, if the easy banter and talk they'd used to have would be gone now, now that they knew these serious things about each other.

As Jackson drifted off to sleep, he thought about that moment at the end of the night, where it had seemed like Derek was going to kiss him. In the last moments before he fell asleep, he wondered what Derek would have tasted like.


	2. Then He Kissed Me

* * *

" _When he danced, he held me tight,_  
And when he walked me home that night,  
All the stars were shinin' bright,  
And then he kissed me.

_Each time I saw him,_  
I couldn't wait to see him again,  
I wanted to let him know,  
That he was more than a friend."  
—The Crystals, Then He Kissed Me

* * *

December came, and with it the holiday season. And where there was a holiday, there was shopping. Jackson usually detested this time of year for precisely that reason, but this year he actually had some money of his own to spend. Suddenly all the sales and deals and BOGO offers seemed less like cruel taunts designed to make him feel shitty about himself and more like welcoming invitations.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, it was Jackson who invited Lydia out shopping with him. She of course knew all about where his new money had come from, and while she didn't approve in the least, Lydia Martin was never one to turn down a shopping trip—especially one that wouldn't include Jackson's usually brooding.

There were only two people on Jackson's Christmas list: Lydia and Danny. Danny had been Jackson's best friend in high school, and though he'd moved to Canada after graduation to take a job at some covert experimental science facility in Vancouver, they continued to keep in touch. Danny made a point of coming home a few times a year, to see his family and catch up with his friends, and one of those trips was  _always_ made on Christmas. It was one of the few traditions Jackson actually had, and this year he was especially looking forward to it.

It was a direct result of what he was doing with Peter that Jackson found himself wanting to spend more and more time with his friends and family. He wanted some connection that had nothing to do with sex, and he craved affection that wanted nothing more from him than his company.

With his parents barely speaking to him, Jackson found himself looking more and more forward to Danny's arrival with every passing day. When he went to the mall with Lydia, he was determined to find him the perfect present.

"Is a laptop too much?" Jackson asked, bouncing on his heels as he waited for Lydia outside of the dressing room she'd disappeared into. "A laptop is too much, right?"

"Two things, Jackson." Came the reply from the dressing room. "One—the kind of laptop that Danny would find useful costs like $2,000. Two—He probably already  _has_ one. And a desktop, and another computer for work and like a million tablets." The door to the dressing room flung open, and Lydia stepped out in a short sleeved dress. The dress was made of red lace, and came up to above her knees. Lydia twirled around in front of him, and raised her eyebrows. "What do you think?" She asked.

"I don't know about the colour," Jackson commented. "Doesn't it clash with your hair?"

"Hardly. It's a myth that redheads can't wear red—we can, and we look amazing," She looked at herself in the mirror. "Besides, it's Christmas. 'Tis the season for garishly bright red," She cast a glance over to Jackson. "I'm getting it,"

Twenty minutes later they exited the store with the first purchase of the day swinging from Lydia's arm. "Alright, we got you a present from you," Jackson said, steering her into an electronics store. "Now let's find something for Danny,"

Lydia sighed. "Fine, fine... what about an iPod?" She asked, gesturing to the display of the latest gadgets. "Everyone likes iPods, get him one of those,"

Jackson rolled his eyes. "He already has one," Jackson said, walking further into the store. Lydia followed with a sigh. "I need to get him something cool..."

"And are you going to tell him where you got the money to pay for his new cool present?" Lydia asked, picking up a small pink digital camera and examining it. She put the camera down, and gave Jackson a look.

Jackson scowled. "No... I don't know, maybe," He muttered, turning away from her. "I haven't decided yet,"

"Isn't he your best friend?"

"Technically yes, but I only see him three times a year, and I don't really want to spend the little time I get with him being  _judged,_ "

"So you'd rather spend it  _lying_ to him, hmmm?"

Jackson sighed. "No, I guess not..." He looked at Lydia. "You really think I should tell him?"

Lydia shrugged. "How should  _I_ know? I'm just playing devil's advocate here. I've got  _no idea_ what you should do," She said, walking away.

Jackson made a disgruntled noise and followed after her, his shoulders slumped.

They spent twenty more minutes looking around the store, after which Lydia became fed up and forced Jackson to talk to someone who worked there. Reluctantly, Jackson approached a short guy in glasses, whose name tag read  _Jared._ With Jared's help, Jackson picked out two gadgets that he thought Danny would appreciate: A bluetooth speaker that looked like the death star from  _Star Wars,_ and a USB car-charger shaped to look like the flux-capacitor from  _Back to the Future._ Even if Danny already had speakers and a car-charger, he was sure he wouldn't have ones like these. When they left the store, Jackson once again wore a smile on his face. Lydia looked exhausted.

With the important shopping out of the way (Jackson had purchased Lydia's present a week ago) Jackson turned his attention to the third item on his list.

Two nights prior, Jackson had come home to find an envelope waiting for him. He'd opened it up to discover a crisp invitation to the Hale Christmas Party, taking place on December 23rd. The invitation said the party dress would be "casual, but elegant" and that guests were to bring a gift of their choosing, which would be given to charity. Gifts were to be newly bought and wrapped, with a tag detailing the specifics of the present: what it was, the age group the gift was intended for, as well as the gender, if applicable.

A small handwritten note at the bottom told Jackson that he was not obliged to participate in the gift-giving, but welcome to if he so chose.

Being in good spirits, and for the first time in his life being in a position and mindset to give back to others, Jackson decided he  _would_ participate.

Buying this gift was much easier than buying for Danny or Lydia had been. Jackson simply waited around for something to catch his eye. He went into whatever stores Lydia chose (she was shopping for gifts for several of her friends, as well as her family). He saw a few nice dresses he considered buying, and a handsome looking leather briefcase that seemed like it would make a good gift. He decided if he found nothing else, he would go back for that.

When they went into the toy store, looking for presents for Lydia's cousins, Jackson decided he'd found what he was looking for. While Lydia looked at  _Monster High_  dolls and something called the  _Beados Deluxe Super Studios,_ Jackson watched as a worker at the store demonstrated one of the stores new arrivals:  _The Zoomer Dino._  It was a remote control dinosaur, wheeling around on two legs, roaring and shaking its tail. Jackson wanted one, and he knew that some kid out there would too.

After their toy purchases they stopped for lunch, taking a trip back to Lydia's car to deposit their bags. Then, with food in their bellies and a refillable soft drink clutched in Jackson's hand, it was back to shopping.

They went into a few more clothing stores, where Lydia bought a pair of shoes for her mother, and Jackson got himself a deep blue mock-neck sweater for the Christmas party. After the third store he chucked his drink, deciding that three refills was enough to get his money's worth.

The final store they went into was a bookstore. Lydia was looking for some autobiography for her father. She wandered off in search of it, leaving Jackson to peruse the shelves by himself. Jackson walked around slowly, reading the names of books on the shelves, occasionally picking one up and flipping through it. As he looked, a section of books caught his eyes—the  _Occult and Mysticism_  section. Looking over his shoulder, as if someone might be watching him, Jackson headed over the section and browsed through the books.

Jackson grabbed a book and looked at it. It was called  _Occult ABC_. He turned it over, and read the back. "'A comprehensive examination of seventy-one forms of occult activity, their effect, and deliverance from them through victory in Christ...'" Jackson made a face.

"Not finding what you're looking for?" A voice behind Jackson chirped. He turned around to find a pixie like person standing behind him, a big  _I'm ready to help you_  smile on her pale face. Her name tag read  _Paige._ Underneath the name, it said  _I'm new!_ inbold red letters. "Would you like some help?"

"Uhh..." Jackson glanced between Paige and the shelf of books. "Sure," He said. Paige bounced slightly on her toes. "I'm looking for a gift for my... friend. He's into this..." He waved his hand at the shelf. "You know, weird stuff,"

Paige's smile widened. "Weird is relative, don't you think?" She asked. "What kind of weird does your friend like?"

Jackson shrugged. "He reads a lot of books on like mythical creatures and lore and crap," He said. "So I guess something like that would be good..."

Paige nodded, and stepped up to the shelf. She moved her hand over the spines of the books, looking for something. "Well, if he's more into the fiction, this is probably a good choice—" She handed him a book with what looked like a porcupine in a dress on the cover. "'Banshees, Werewolves, Vampires, And Other Creatures Of The Night: Facts, Fictions and First Hand Accounts,'" She said. "It has all the classic stories about vampires and stuff, some facts and 'true witness accounts' thrown in. It's a pretty good read,"

Jackson frowned, looking at the book. "I don't think he's much into fiction—I mean, I know it's all fiction, but..."

Paige raised an eyebrow, suddenly very serious.  _"Is_ it all fiction? _"_ She asked ominously. "Who's really to say, y'know?" She stared at him for a moment, her huge eyes boring into him. Then she smiled again, and turned back to the shelf.

"If your friend is more of a more hands-on 'they-are-out-there' kind of person, then this might be a good fit," She said, handing him a bright red book with what looked like the devil on the cover. "'A Field Guide to Demons, Fairies, Fallen Angels and Other Subversive Spirits,'" She said. "It's got all kinds of information on like a jillion different creatures and things," She grinned. "And lots of cool pictures,"

Jackson nodded flipping through the books. "This looks like it's more on his level..." He said. He closed the book. "Thanks, I think I'll get it,"

Paige's eyes lit up. "Really? Wow, my first sale! This is exciting," She said.

Jackson raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you're like... really new, huh?"

Paige bobbed her head up and down. "Uh huh, so new. Super new. Brand new," She grinned.

Jackson smiled awkwardly back at her, unsure what to make of the girl. "Well... thanks," He said, turning away. He heard her calling after him that he was welcome, but continued to walk quickly away from her.

As Jackson stood in line, he looked down at the book in his hands, wondering why he felt compelled to buy Derek a present. He was sure Derek wouldn't get one for him, and why should he? He supposed they were friends, but hardly good ones... was Jackson making a mistake, buying this for him? Did it send the wrong message?

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Huh?" Jackson looked up to find he was at the cash register. The person behind it was holding out his hand, waiting for Jackson to hand over his item. "Oh, sorry..."

"No problem..." The cashier said—his name tag read  _George._ "Did anyone help you out today?"

Jackson nodded. "Yeah, a girl named Paige did,"

George smiled slightly as he scanned the book, and placed it into a bag. "That's her first sale then," He said. "Was she excited?"

Jackson snorted. "Yeah, she was,"

George nodded. "She gets excited easily," He said, a definite note of fondness in his voice. "It's... sweet, I think,"

"It sure is something," Jackson mumbled.

The smile slipped off George's face. "Cash or credit?" He asked curtly. Jackson handed him over the cash, and George gave him his change, then handed him his bag. "Next?" he called, already looking past Jackson. Obviously, Jackson had offended him.

Jackson raised his eyebrows, took his bag and walked away. At the front of the store, he found Lydia waiting for him. "Let's get out of here," He said, steering her by the arm towards the exit. "This place is weird..."

* * *

At 7:00 PM on December 23rd, Jackson once again stood on the Hale front porch. This time when he knocked, the door was quickly opened by a maid in a crisp black uniform.

The house was already full of people, laughing and talking and holding drinks. Servers walked around holding trays of hors d'oeuvres. A huge Christmas tree was set up at the back of the living room, with stacks of presents around the base. Jackson placed his present there, and then looked around the room, wondering what to do next.

"Oh, Jackson, you made it," Peter called out, walking over to him. "It's good to see you," He reached out and shook Jackson's hand, an act which threw him off a little. Jackson winced, once again reminded of how very  _firm_ Peter's handshake was. "Here, I have someone to introduce you to,"

Standing with Peter was a lanky boy who looked to be about Jackson's age, with spiked up brown hair and a smirk on his pale face. "Jackson, meet Stiles," Peter said, as Stiles also reached out to shake his hand. Stiles' hand shake was considerably looser than Peter's.

"Good to meet you," Stiles said, looking Jackson over.

Jackson nodded. "Yeah, you too..."

Peter grinned, and clapped them both on the shoulder. "Well, I'll leave you two to get to know each other," He said. "Certainly hope you get along..." He turned away, and made his way across the room to another group of people.

Jackson looked at Stiles, and raised an eyebrow. "Any idea what that was about?"

Stiles snorted, and once more let his eyes roam over Jackson's body. "Uh, yeah, I think I know..."

Jackson was going to ask him what he meant, when the answer occurred to him. "Oh," He said. Obviously, a threesome was somewhere in his future. "Well, that's... new,"

Stiles shrugged. A server with a tray full of mini quiches passed by, and Stiles grabbed two of them. He offered one to Jackson, who shook his head. "More for me," He said, popping one of the tiny quiches into his mouth. "So," Stiles said, after swallowing a mouthful of quiche. "How long've you been with Peter?"

Jackson stuffed his hands in his pockets, thinking it over. "About... two months now, I guess,"

Stiles nodded, finishing his second quiche. "Two years," He said, holding up two fingers.

"You're kidding, two years?" Jackson repeated. "Wow, that's... that's a long time,"

Stiles shrugged, eyeing something behind Jackson's head—Jackson had a good idea that it was another server and their tray. Sure enough, the server passed them and this time Stiles was able to grab what looked like a crab puff. "What can I say, time flies when yadda yadda," He waved his hand dismissively, and then put the crab puff in his mouth. He pulled a face. " _Yelch,_ " He swallowed painfully, and opened his mouth in distaste. "Not a fan,"

"So, you and Peter, you're having fun?" He asked. Stiles raised his eyebrows, still opening and closing his mouth. "'Time flies...'"

"Oh," Stiles said. "Yeah, we are. We do," He looked at Jackson. "Why, you're not?"

"No, I am," Jackson said. "Peter's great, he's been great to me..."

"But... ?"

"There's no  _but,_ " Jackson said, his voice sharp. "It's great,"

Stiles shook his head. "Right,  _sure,_ " He mumbled. "Look, if you've got issues, I'm gonna find them out eventually, you know? Better to get everything out in the open now, isn't it?"

"Actually no, I don't think so, now's not the time," Jackson said, looking around. Stiles opened his mouth, and Jackson narrowed his eyes.  _"Leave it,_ crab-breath, _"_

For a moment, Stiles looked confused. "Crab-breath...  _oh_ is that what I ate? Man, I hate crab..." Jackson sighed, rolling his eyes. "Alright, I'm leaving it. Simmer down, hot stuff," He mumbled.

Jackson glared. "I'm  _calm,_ okay?"

Stiles didn't look convinced. "Well, it was nice meeting you... I'm sure I'll be seeing you again, really soon," He said, winking. He walked off, and Jackson saw him making a beeline for another sever.

"You should be more careful about where you stand,"

Jackson smiled to himself, the bad mood Stiles had put him in suddenly gone. He turned around to see Derek standing there, a matching smile on his face. Jackson raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"Mistletoe," Derek said, pointing up to the ceiling. "You're standing right under it," Jackson looked up and saw a green plant with white berries, tied with a red bow dangling high above his head. "If someone steps under there with you, you'll have to kiss them," Derek said solemnly. "Laura enforces it,"

Jackson grinned, and looked at Derek. "Yeah? Maybe you should step a little closer then," He said, surprising himself.

Derek's brow furrowed. "Jackson..."

"I know, I know," He said, waving his hand. He didn't even know why he'd said that, that was stupid. "You're straight, forget I said anything,"

The crease in Derek's brow deepened. He looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could, a woman with long brown hair stepped up to his side. "Derek, there you are," She said. "You just walked off, I was worried you were done with the party already..."

Derek seemed to get a grip on himself, and he smiled. "Sorry, Laura," He said. "I just saw Jackson, and I wanted to introduce the two of you. Jackson, this is my sister Laura. Laura, this is my... friend, Jackson,"

Laura Hale smiled and reached out to shook Jackson's hand. Her grip was firm, solid—not crushing, like Peter's, but strong. Like Peter and Derek, she was gorgeous. She had bright green-hazel eyes that looked just like Derek's. "It's good to meet you," She said. "Derek doesn't have many friends, it's nice to be able to get to know one,"

Derek rolled his eyes, and glanced at the floor. "I have friends," He muttered.

"Uh huh, I'm sure you do," Laura agreed, patting him on the shoulder. She smiled at Jackson. "So, how did you two meet?" She asked.

"Uh..." Jackson glanced at Derek, who shook his head. Obviously telling Laura the true circumstances of their meeting was out of the questions. "Just, you know, around..."

Laura furrowed her brow. "Around? Around where? Because he never leaves the house. Ever. He's basically a hermit,"

Jackson smiled slightly. Derek made a face. "We met at the library," He said. "Jackson was there researching a paper, I was there looking through their occult section, we sat at the same table and got to talking," He shrugged.

"Yeah," Jackson agreed, nodding. "That's how we met,"

"Of course it is," Laura said, shaking her head. "The library. Where else do you ever go?"

"Apparently nowhere, I'm a hermit, remember?"

Laura rolled her eyes. "So sensitive, this one," She said, then glanced down at her watch. "Oh, it's time for dinner," She looked around, at all the people standing around talking. "How do we get everyone into the dining room?"

Derek cleared his throat. "Hey everyone!" He shouted. "Dinner!" He waved his hands towards the dining room, and people began to move in that direction. He looked at Laura. "That's how,"

In the commotion of people moving into the other room, Jackson was separated from the others. During dinner, he once again wound up with Stiles by his side. "Hey, Jackson, good to see you man," Stiles said, taking a seat next to Jackson. His plate was piled high with food. "Anything new going on with you since we last talked?"

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Strangely, no, nothing new in the last 10 minutes," He murmured.

Stiles grinned. "You got any plans for tomorrow night?" Stiles asked. "Spending time with family and what not?"

Jackson shook his head, moving the turkey around on his plate with his fork. "My family is barely speaking to me right now, so no, I won't be spending Christmas Eve with them,"

"What's the problem?" Stiles asked, before spooning some mashed potatoes into his mouth.

"I uh, I told them about... Peter," He muttered.

Stiles choked on his potatoes. "You told your  _parents?_ " He sputtered. He swallowed his mouthful, and stared at Jackson. "Are you  _nuts?_ What, did—did you think they'd be  _proud_ of you or something...?"

Jackson glared at him. "I'm not the one who's been screwing some guy for money for  _two years,_ " Jackson hissed. "You think your Mom and Dad would be proud of you, if they knew that?"

Stiles licked his lips. "Well, I mean it's actually just my Dad," He said, pursing his lips. "My Mom's... not around. I mean, she died... so, I guess I'll never know if she was proud of me or not..."

Jackson shut his eyes. "Shit... I'm sorry," He mumbled. "Stiles..."

Stiles shrugged. "You didn't know,"

They sat in silence for a minute. Jackson put some cranberry sauce on his turkey, and took a bite out of it. He chewed slowly. "So... what are your plans for tomorrow?"

"Another dinner," Stiles said. "It'll be a lot smaller than this, obviously... but we do it every year. Me and my Dad, my friend Scott and his Mom... we all have dinner together,"

"My friends and I have something planned, too. Sort of our own tradition," Jackson said.

"You should try and make up with your parents," Stiles said. "It's the holidays... you guys should be together,"

Jackson sighed. "I've been told,"

They kept talk light for the rest of dinner, only broaching idle subjects that neither could get worked up about. Jackson was surprised to learn that he actually had something in common with Stiles. Like him, Stiles was an avid fan of lacrosse, and had even played a bit in high school (although while Jackson had been the captain of his team, Stiles confessed he'd spent much of his time on the bench). They talked over the game for quite a while, and by the end of dinner, Jackson actually found himself warming slightly to the guy.

After dinner it was back to standing around, making small talk. Jackson sat on a couch and talked to a girl who said she was the assistant to Peter's assistant, Jennifer. When Jackson asked if her boss ever freaked her out, she stopped talking and stared at the floor for ten minutes. Jackson took that for a yes.

When that stimulating conversation was over, Jackson headed over to the washroom. Upon seeing the line outside the door, he turned around and headed up the stairs. Technically he wasn't sure he was allowed to go up there, but he hoped no one would notice.

He went to the bathroom as quickly as he could, and was in and out in less than a minute. When he left the bathroom, Derek was standing in the hallway. He looked like he was waiting for him.

Jackson pressed his lips together. "I know I shouldn't be up here," He said. "There was just a really long line for the bathroom downstairs..."

"What? I don't care that you're up here—although, you know we have two other bathrooms down there, right?"

"Oh... and no, I didn't know that..." Jackson stepped forward, looking at the ground. "So what's up?"

"It's about what you said earlier," Derek said, moving towards him. "It's been bugging me..."

Jackson sighed. "Look, I didn't mean it okay? I was just... teasing you,"

"Were you?" Derek asked softly.

Jackson became aware that Derek was standing very close. Any closer and their chests would be pressed flush against each other. Jackson looked up at Derek, biting his lip. Under the softness of Derek's gaze, Jackson strangely compelled to tell the truth. "No..." He said quietly. "I wasn't,"

Derek nodded. He lifted his hands up, brushing them along Jackson's arms before bringing them up to Jackson's face, cupping it in his hands. His heart was pounding in his chest.

A curious impulse came over him, and Jackson looked up. "There's no mistletoe..." He whispered stupidly.

Derek smiled slightly. "I know," He said, then he leaned in and pressed his mouth softly against Jackson's. Derek mouth was warm, and tasted slightly of cranberry. Jackson closed his eyes and clutched at the hem of Derek's shirt as he kissed him back. The kiss was slow and gentle, the press of their mouths kept light and moving with an almost lazy ease. It was simple and sweet, and Jackson would remember it forever.

As they kissed, something felt as if it were breaking open inside of him, something he'd been holding in forever that was now rushing out and overflowing, refusing to be kept in any longer.

It seemed much, much too quickly that Derek was pulling back, breaking apart their kiss although Jackson still wanted more. He  _needed_ more, needed Derek to keep touching him, keep kissing him. Now that he knew what it felt like, he never wanted to stop.

A small whine of protest escaped from the back of his throat, and Derek smiled. He took one hand from Jackson's face, and wrapped his arm around his waist, as if to let him know he wasn't going anywhere. His other hand in kept in place, and stroked Jackson's cheek with his thumb. Every night for the next week, Jackson would think about the way Derek had looked at him then, and how softly he'd touched him. He would think of it, and his insides would ache.

Jackson reached up and kissed Derek again, more firmly and deeply than before. He sighed against his lips. It wasn't as if all the world fell away when he kissed him, or he magically forgot all of his problems... but for just a moment, it all felt alright anyways. For just a moment, in spite of all the pain and difficulty and trouble in Jackson's life, he knew it would all be okay.  _He_  would be okay.

And then the floor creaked, and everything was ruined.

At the noise, they broke apart and turned around just in time to see Stiles duck his head back behind the wall he was hiding behind.

Without a word they stormed over, and Derek grabbed Stiles by his shirt and threw back against the wall. "Why were you spying on us?" He demanded.

"I wasn't! Well, I was, I guess... I didn't mean to," He said, failing to hide the gleeful look on his face. He looked at Jackson. "So I guess  _this_ is the 'but' you said didn't exist?" He asked.

Jackson glowered, and Derek's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Nothing, just a conversation we were having earlier," He muttered, glaring at Stiles. "Are you going to tell Peter?"

"Of  _course_ he's not," Derek growled, shaking Stiles slightly. "Because if he did, I'd have to  _kill him,_ "

Stiles held up his hands, trying to look innocent. "Hey, this is not my business. I've got no reason to tell Peter, I swear,"

Slowly, Derek let go of Stiles' shirt. "Good," He said.

Stiles grinned, and nodded at Derek. "So how long has this been going on for?" He asked, looking back and forth between Derek and Jackson.

Jackson crossed his arms. "There's nothing else going on," He mumbled. "You saw the whole thing,"

Stiles eyes widened in surprise. "Oh dude, was that the first time—" He cringed. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have followed, I just... I saw you go upstairs, and I saw him follow and I thought you guys were, y'know..." He shrugged.

"So you  _were_ trying to spy on us?" Jackson snapped.

Stiles looked surprised. "Oh, yeah. I guess so..."

Jackson made a noise of disgust, shaking his head. "You're so full of shit," He muttered. "You were spying on us on purpose, and you still expect me to believe you aren't going to say anything to Peter?" He asked. Stiles nodded. "I don't believe you. You want something,"

Stiles groaned. "I'm not trying to blackmail you, Jackson," He insisted. "I mean, maybe if you actually had something I wanted, it would be a different story, but you don't so..." He shrugged.

Jackson blinked a few times, staring at Stiles. For some reason, that actually reassured him a bit.

"You should go back to the party," Derek said, turning away. "Peter will notice if you're both gone,"

"What about you?" Jackson asked. "Where are you going?"

"My room," Derek muttered. "I've had enough for one night,"

Derek walked off down the hall, and Jackson stared after him, feeling lost. He felt Stiles put a hand on his shoulder. "Seriously, I'm really sorry..." Stiles said. "I didn't mean to screw things up between you guys,"

Jackson shook his head, his anger at Stiles slowly abating. "You didn't..." He mumbled. "It was stupid anyways, anyone could have seen us. We're probably lucky it was you,"

Stiles smiled, obviously happy to be off the hook. "Well, for what it's worth, it looked like a hell of a kiss,"

Jackson nodded, and licked his lips. "Yeah," He said. "Yeah it was,"


	3. Sum Of Our Parts

* * *

" _I want to know who ever broke you,_  
 _I want to know how you can grow bigger._  
 _Don't go looking for some kind of rescue,_  
 _You are the only one who can save you._

_We are more than our scars,_   
_We are more than the sum of our parts._   
_We are more than our scars,_   
_We are more than the sum of our parts."_

— _Mary Lambert, Sum of our Parts_

* * *

A week after Christmas, Jackson headed back over to the Hale house to meet Peter. He wasn't surprised to find Stiles waiting for him as well. At the party, Peter hadn't exactly been subtle about his intentions.

They began slowly, taking time to get used to one another. Stiles stepped towards him and kissed him, more softly than he would have expected. His hands drifted over Jackson's body, undoing the buttons of his shirt as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue between Jackson's lips. They undressed each other slowly while Peter watched, lounging on an arm chair.

"I like your freckles," Stiles murmured, kissing along the back of Jackson's bare shoulder. Jackson shivered, as Stiles' lips found the nape of his neck.

Jackson turned around and caught Stiles by the back of the neck, pulling him forward for another kiss. "I like your mouth," He replied, biting lightly at his bottom lip. Stiles grinned and kissed him again before sinking down to his knees. A gasp escaped Jackson's throat as Stiles' lips found him, and again as Peter moved behind him, sliding his hand down his back. His mouth opened slightly, and Peter turned his face towards him and pressed a rough kiss against his mouth.

Peter's fingers pressed inside of him as Stiles sucked him off, and just as Jackson felt himself close to the edge, Peter stopped Stiles and threw Jackson back on the bed. He pulled off his clothes slowly, never taking his eyes off of Jackson as he did so. Naked and hard, Peter climbed onto the bed with Jackson, pushing his knees apart and moving in between. As he fucked him, Stiles resumed his blow job.

When they were finally finished, collapsing back on each other in a sweaty pile, Jackson felt drained. He'd never been in a threesome before. It was exhausting, but in an exciting sort of way. Around him, Peter and Stiles dozed off, Peter turning to the side and Stiles moving closer to Jackson and wrapping his arms around him. Stiles snuggled close, pressing his lips to Jackson's neck and holding him tightly as he slept. It felt almost odd, to cuddle with someone after sex, after being so used to Peter who never bothered. Odd... but nice. It was comfortable, lying there curled up with Stiles, warm and satisfied. He could have closed his eyes and slept forever.

But he didn't. Instead, he lay awake for an hour, watching the time on his watch move by with nervous anticipation in his stomach. Finally, it was midnight and he carefully removed himself from Stiles' arms and dressed as quietly as possible.

Before he left, he removed Derek's Christmas present from his bag, and took that down to the kitchen with him. The book was wrapped in tacky green paper that said  _MERRY CHRISTMAS_ all over it, and was covered in Christmas trees and bells. With everything that had happened at the party, he'd forgotten to give it to Derek. He would now.

All week along, Jackson had thought of little else but Derek and their kiss. It had been amazing, and he'd replayed it in his mind more than a hundred times. Even more amazing was the realization that he had feelings for Derek. Real, strong feelings. He liked Derek. Liked talking to him and being near him, liked the way he looked and everything else about him. And he thought that Derek liked him, too. Why else would he have kissed him?

Jackson had waited all week to be able to talk to Derek about that kiss, and tonight he finally had the opportunity.

The kitchen was dark when Jackson reached it, which wasn't entirely unusual. He turned the lights on, and his stomach sank when he found an empty kitchen waiting for him. Never before had he made it to the kitchen before Derek, not once.

Still, there was a first time for everything. Jackson got himself some cereal, and sat down at the table. He ate slowly, his head popping up at even the slightest noise in the hopes that it was the sound of Derek, but minute after minute passed with no sign of him. He finished his cereal and sat there for a few minutes more, but even as he continued to wait, he knew he wasn't coming.

Jackson cleaned up his bowl, and made his way back upstairs. At the top of the stairs, he stopped. Then he strode off down the hallway, past Peter's room in search of Derek's. He walked down the hallway, unsure what he was looking for. A sign on a door reading _Derek's Room_?

The light was on in one of the rooms, and Jackson took a chance and knocked quietly. "Derek...?"

The door opened. Not Derek. "Uh, can I help you?" Laura asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Uh, I was looking for Derek," Jackson mumbled, not meeting her eyes.

Laura furrowed her brow. "You don't know where Derek's room is?" She questioned. "You're Jackson, right? Derek's friend?" Jackson nodded. "Then  _why_ don't you know where his room is? And what are you even doing here, if you're not with Derek?"

Jackson ducked his head even further, and quietly mumbled something.

"Excuse me?"

Jackson repeated himself.

Laura sighed. "I'm sorry, but I cannot hear what you're—"

" _Peter,"_ Jackson said again, speaking clearly this time. "I'm with Peter, okay?"

Laura's eyes narrowed. "Oh," She said. "You're one of  _his,_ " Jackson nodded again, feeling strangely ashamed. If Jackson had learned anything over the last few months, it was that while they may have been his family, neither Laura nor Derek particularly liked Peter.

"Yeah, I am,"

"But you're looking for Derek?" There was judgment in Laura's voice now. Jackson couldn't imagine what she thought of him. "Look, whatever you're doing here, you need to stop,"

Jackson looked up, surprised. "What?"

"Whatever game you're playing, Derek doesn't need it,"

"I'm not playing any games, I swear," Jackson protested. "I just... I need to talk to Derek, please. It's important,"

The look on Laura's face seemed to soften ever so slightly, and she sighed. "Around the corner, first door on the right," She said. Jackson opened his mouth to thank her, but she pointed a finger in his face. "Don't make me regret telling you," She said, before closing the door.

Jackson turned the corner, and saw a light under the door of Derek's room. He took a deep breath and knocked once on the door, then opened it.

Derek was at his desk, going over something in a large binder. "Jackson, what are you...?" He turned in his chair, shutting the binder at the same time. Before he did, Jackson thought he saw Peter's name on the document he was looking at.

"You weren't in the kitchen," Jackson said, shutting the door behind him. He kept the hand with the present behind his back. "I wanted to know why,"

Derek sighed, and rubbed his eyes. "Jackson... we can't do this,"

A cold pit opened in Jackson's stomach. "Can't do what?"

"This, you and me... we just can't," Derek said. "It... kissing you... it was a mistake,"

"No, it wasn't," Jackson said fiercely. "It wasn't a fucking mistake, and you know it,"

Derek shook his head. "It was stupid. You're with Peter, and you're not going to leave him." He said, not looking at Jackson. "And I wouldn't ask you to. I can't give you what Peter can,"

"So?"

"So, I won't just be someone you're screwing on the side," Derek lifted his eyes and finally looked at Jackson. "I won't be your dirty little secret, Jackson. If can't be with you properly... I don't want to be with you at all so just... just get out, alright?"

The coolness in his stomach had turned into a sickening clench. When he'd imagined having this conversation, this was not had he'd thought it would go. "Here," He said, taking the hand with Derek's present from behind his back. He tossed the present onto Derek's desk, where it landed with a loud  _smack._ "Got this for you, for Christmas. I was going to give it to you at the party, but with everything that happened..."

He turned away, worried that at any moment tears would well up in his eyes. "Jackson, wait," Derek said. Jackson turned back around to find Derek taking a small, skinny package out of his desk drawer. It was wrapped in red paper, and tied with a white bow. "I got this for you..."

Jackson's throat felt thick, and for a moment he didn't think he'd be able to say anything. "Keep it," He managed. "I don't need anything from you,"

Jackson opened the door and left before Derek could say anything else.

* * *

Jackson moped around for a week. It was winter break, and without even school to distract him Jackson fell into an idle slump. He did nothing but watch television in his sweatpants, glumly lying on the couch for hours on end. He ignored the buzzing of his cellphone, and didn't bother to look at any of his e-mails. He worked on none of the things that would be due at the end of break, and made no effort to be productive in any way.

At the end of the week, fed up of being ignored, Lydia showed up at his house and forcibly dragged him out to lunch. Then she made him talk.

"Something happened," Lydia said, as she drove them towards the restaurant she'd decided they were going to. "Tell me what it is,"

Jackson ignored her for the duration of the ride, partly because he was still resentful of being forced outside, and partly because he was a little ashamed. He didn't want Lydia to know that he'd fallen apart like this, just because he'd been rejected by a guy he liked. Sure, Derek was a really  _great_ guy, and he liked him a whole fucking lot... still, he knew he was acting pathetic and childish. And hearing so from Lydia would only make him feel worse.

They had taken their seats at the restaurant and ordered by the time he felt like talking. "Can you just... do me a favour and not tell me how stupid I am?" Jackson began, stirring sugar into his coffee. "I already know, so let's just skip that,"

"Alright, fine," Lydia said, placing her hands calmly on the table as she waited for the rest. "Well?"

Jackson sighed. "So... I told you about Derek, right?"

"Peter's nephew?"

"Yeah. So I told you about him, and how we're sort of friends..." Jackson paused, thinking over what he wanted to say. "Lately it kind of seemed like, I don't... maybe there was something more there. At first I thought it was in my head, but then... he kissed me,"

Lydia's eyes widened. "He kissed you? When?"

"At the Christmas party..."

"Mistletoe?"

Jackson shook his head. "No, no mistletoe. He kissed me because he wanted to..." He sighed again, and ran his fingers through his hair. "Now he says it was a mistake, that we can't be together,"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm with Peter, and he won't ask me to give that up, because Peter gives me something he can't—I assume he means money. So I'm with Peter, which means I can't have anything to do with him,"

"Wow," Lydia said, tilting her head to the side. "That certainly sucks,"

Jackson snorted. "Yeah, it really does..."

Lydia took a sip of her coffee, and brushed a strand of hair off her face. "So, what are you going to do?"

Jackson stared at her blankly. "What do you mean what am I going to do?"

Lydia gave him one of those  _you can't be serious_ looks. "Obviously,  _Jackson,_ you have a choice to make," She said, raising her eyebrows. "Derek or Peter?"

Jackson shook his head, staring down at his mug. "Derek made it pretty clear that he was no longer an option," He mumbled.

Lydia rolled her eyes, and made a noise of exasperation. "Come on, Jackson,"

He raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"The only reason Derek said he doesn't want to be with you is because you're with Peter!" She said.

Jackson frowned. "You think if I left Peter... I'd have a chance with Derek?"

"I do," Lydia said, nodding. "But the question is, are you willing to give up everything being with Peter gets you, for Derek?"

Jackson bit his lip and considered the question. It wasn't easy to answer. His immediate thought was  _yes, of course,_ but he reconsidered.  _Was_ he ready to give up the perks of being with Peter? He would be lying if he said he didn't love being able to afford things again, love being without the crushing fear and anxiety that came with having no money. Sure, he had saved up quite a lot over the last few months, but one day that money would run out, and he would be back to square one. Was he ready for that?

"I don't know," Jackson said, more to himself than Lydia. "I really don't know..."

* * *

Derek sat at his desk, grinding his teeth as he flipped through the documents in his binder, not really reading them. He needed to focus, needed to concentrate on what he was doing... but he couldn't get him out of his head. Couldn't get  _them_ out of his head.

Jackson was here again. Derek had checked the front closet just after dinner, and Jackson's shoes and coat were in it, meaning the person who belonged to them was upstairs with Peter...

Derek shut his eyes, not wanting to think about what Jackson and Peter were doing together at that very moment. He wished he could just forget about Jackson, forget what was between them and move on... but he couldn't. And there was a part of him that didn't want to. When he thought about kissing him, how it had felt... the way Jackson had clung to him, not wanting to let go...

There was a pain in Derek's chest, like a fist squeezing his heart. The truth was, as much as one part of him said to let him go, to move on with his life and forget him... there was another part that screamed just as loudly that he should  _fight_ for him. Refuse to give him up, to let Peter win. Maybe if he let Jackson know how much he meant to him, how much he enjoyed being with him, maybe Jackson would choose him instead of Peter. Maybe... maybe...

Derek shook his head. He would kill himself with all the  _maybes._ It wasn't right. He couldn't put that pressure on Jackson, the pressure to choose between a relationship with Derek, and the financial security that came with Peter. He knew how much that security meant to Jackson, and he wouldn't be the one to take it away from him just because he had a  _crush._

The door to Derek's room flung open, and for just a second, Derek thought it might be Jackson. But it was only Laura, a binder full of invoices and account statements and a million other documents from  _Hale Realty_ under her arm. "I've got something," She said, plunking the binder down on top of the one Derek had been flipping through. "Right here, from six years ago..." She flipped the binder open to the document in question, and began to explain what she'd discovered. Derek nodded his head as she spoke, but could barely concentrate on what she was saying. His mind was elsewhere.

The sound of snapping fingers brought him out of his head, and he found Laura staring at him, exasperated. "Derek, are you even listening?" She asked.

Derek shook his head. "No, not really," He admitted. She gave him a look. "I'm sorry, I'm... distracted,"

Laura sighed, and sat down on the bed. "It's that kid, isn't it?"

Derek glared. " _No,_ " He said. "And he's not a kid,"

"Derek, this isn't healthy,"

"What, liking someone? Aren't you the one always saying I should get more and 'meet people?' Well, I met someone. My apologies if he's not up to your standards,"

"He measures up to  _his_ standards," Laura replied. "Shouldn't that tell you all you need to know about him?"

"You don't know him, Laura," Derek said. "Just because  _he_  likes him, it doesn't immediately make him worthless,"

"I never said he was worthless, I just don't think he's the kind of person you need in your life,"

"Well, don't worry because he's not in my life,"

"But you wish he was,"

"So sue me," Derek said, throwing his arms up in the air. "I can't help it, alright? I like him, and I wish things were different. But they're not, so there's no point arguing about it, okay?"

Laura gave him a look. "You're not going to let this affect what we're doing here, are you?" She asked.

Derek frowned. "No, why would it?"

Laura lowered her voice, and leaned forward. "Because when we take Peter down, he's going to jail, and your friend Jackson is getting cut off,"

"Yeah, but that won't be for a while... who knows if Jackson will even still be around when that happens..." That's what he'd been telling himself, at least. That what he and Laura were planning would be too far in the future to affect Jackson. Unless of course, Jackson was like Stiles, and stuck around forever...

Laura was shaking her head. "It'll happen sooner than you think," She said. "We have a lot of evidence now, Derek. We're going to have to show someone, soon. And once it's all out, that'll be it," Derek's frown deepened, and he looked away. "So I'll ask you again, are you going to let your feelings affect what we're doing?"

"I don't know," Derek admitted. "I want to see this through but... I can't do that to Jackson..."

Laura shook her head, and grabbed her binder from Derek's desk. "You need to figure this out," She said. "We're supposed to be in this together, Derek. We've worked too hard to throw it all away over  _some boy_ you've got a crush on,"

Derek glared at her. "He's more than just some boy I have a crush on," He snapped. "He's... I care about him,"

Laura sighed, and Derek could see sympathy on her face. "And I'm sorry, Derek. But we need to do this, you know we do,"

Derek turned away. He knew Laura was right. "Just wait a little while longer," He said.

"A little while," Laura agreed, heading to the door. "But not forever,"

* * *

Jackson stood in the hallway, banging on the door and waiting for it to open. He felt like he was on the verge of collapsing. The events of the past few hours were swirling and racing around in his head, and he felt as if he might cry again.

Jackson had gone to Peter's earlier in the evening, finally having found the answer to the question that had been nagging at him since his talk with Lydia. What he had with Peter was great, the perfect situation for him... or it had been, before he'd kissed Derek. Now that he was sure of his feelings, and at least reasonably sure of Derek's, he couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't be with Peter when he was thinking about Derek, wishing he could be with him... it wasn't worth any amount of money. He was pretty sure of that, at least.

It had taken him a long while to come to that conclusion, but once he had, he was sure of his answer.

He chose Derek.

That wasn't what he told Peter, of course. He'd simply told Peter that he couldn't see him anymore, and while he'd appreciated the time they'd had together and everything Peter had done for him, it was over now.

But Peter had known. Had asked him, very quietly,  _is there someone else?_

Jackson had lied... and Peter had seen through it. Somehow, he had known Jackson was lying. And even more unfathomable, he had known who he was lying  _about._

And that was why Jackson was where he was now, in the hallway of Stiles' apartment, smashing his fist against his door even when his arm felt like it was about to fall off.

Finally the door was pulled open, although the person standing behind it was not Stiles. He had messy black hair, tanned skin and his jawline was slightly uneven. Despite the fact that Jackson had been bludgeoning his door with his fist, the guy smiled at him. "Can I help you?"

For a moment, Jackson worried he was in the wrong place. He and Stiles had traded contact information—phone numbers, addresses and emails—after their threesome with Peter, and he wondered if Stiles had maybe given him false info for some reason. "Is—does Stiles Stilinski live here?" He asked, forcing his voice to sound calm.

The guy at the door nodded. "Oh, yeah, hold on—" He turned back into the apartment. "Stiles! There's a dude at the door for you!" He turned back to Jackson, smiled again. "Give him a moment. Do you want to come in?" He asked, stepping back.

Jackson nodded and mumbled a thank you, walking quickly into the apartment. It was a nice place, not huge but certainly a lot bigger than someone like Stiles would usually be able to afford. He assumed that meant Peter was paying the rent.

Stiles came wandering out of the bedroom with his hair ruffled and his jeans unbuttoned. He yawned widely. "Oh, Jackson—" He froze. "Dude, everything okay?"

"Did you tell him?" Jackson demanded, his anger flaring back up again.

Stiles looked perplexed. "Tell who what?"

" _Peter,"_ Jackson snapped. "Did you tell him about me and Derek?" That was the only way Jackson could think of for Peter to have known. Stiles had to have blabbed. Even after he'd promised he wouldn't... even after they'd slept together. He had told.

Stiles mouth opened slightly. "Wha—no way," He said. Jackson set his jaw. "Dude, I wouldn't, I swear. I didn't say anything!"

"Well he knew!" Jackson shouted, almost feeling as if he was about to cry. He fought against it, refusing to seem weaker than he already felt. He wanted to believe Stiles, he did. But if Stiles hadn't told than how... "How did he know, if you didn't tell him?"

"I don't know, really..." Stiles said, shooting a look to his roommate, who nodded and ducked out of the room, giving them some privacy. He went over to Jackson, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Did something happen?"

Jackson nodded his head, still fighting back tears. "He knew," He said quietly. "He just knew..."

Stiles moved him gently over the couch, and he sat down. "Tell me," Stiles said.

Jackson swallowed, and wiped at his eyes. Slowly, he told Stiles what happened.

He'd gone over to Peter's to tell him it was over, that he couldn't see him anymore. Peter had been calm, hadn't seemed upset or hurt. Jackson had thought it had been going well, better than he'd expected... until Peter asked him, in a soft voice, if there was someone else. Jackson would always remember the look in Peter's eyes as he asked, as if he was looking through Jackson and seeing all of his lies, seeing everything he was trying to hide. His calm had seemed almost eerie then,  _too_ calm, too composed... and with something hidden, just below the surface. Just beyond Jackson's sight, something dark had been lurking behind Peter's cool eyes. But then it was gone just as quickly as it had come, and he was just Peter again, patiently waiting for Jackson's answer.

Jackson had told him no, no there was no else. And Peter had smiled, said  _okay._ Jackson should have realized then that Peter had known Jackson was lying. Maybe he had always known.

Peter had touched him, gently, placed his hand upon his face. Jackson hadn't been able to stop himself thinking of Derek then, and the way Derek had done the very same thing when he'd kissed him at Christmas. It was fine, Peter had whispered, if Jackson wanted to leave. He was free to go, although Peter would miss him. Jackson had smiled and Peter had kissed him. One last time, Peter had asked. A way to say goodbye.

Jackson had meant it when he said they were done... but what could one more time hurt? And Peter had done so much for him, been so good to him. Jackson agreed to what Peter wanted. One last time. A way to say goodbye.

It had been a mistake. All of it, every moment of their relationship... Jackson regretted it all. No money was worth the way Peter had treated him. The things he'd said.

While they'd been together, everything seemed fine. Normal. Jackson had felt nothing in Peter's touch to suggest he was feeling any resentment towards him. If anything, Peter had seemed calmer than usual. His touches were softer, his kiss more gentle... he'd been attentive, and spent more time making sure Jackson got off than himself.

He should have known something was wrong.

After they were finished, the change was instant. They'd been lying on the bed together, catching their breath. Peter had turned to him and taken Jackson's face in his hand. He'd looked him dead in the eye. His voice had been soft. "I wonder, what do you think about yourself Jackson?" He had asked. Jackson's brow had furrowed, not understanding. "Do you like yourself... or can you see yourself for the dirty little slut that you are?" Peter's thumb ran softly along his cheek, caressing him.

Jackson had blinked, shocked at what he'd heard. "W-what?" He'd stammered. Nerves had begun to grow in his belly. Had Peter really just said that?

"You try and hold yourself up high, walk and talk with confidence... but we both know you're nothing but a needy, cock hungry slut flitting through life waiting for the next dick to suck," Peter had pushed his thumb into Jackson's mouth then, and Jackson had shoved him off, glaring and hurt but most of all confused. "Do you think you're special, that you deserve to be loved... or do you know you'll never be more than a piece of ass for men like me to fuck?"

Peter had smiled at him, a small little smile that did not match the hate Jackson could see in his eyes. "I want you to remember this when he's fucking you," He'd said quietly, "And I want you to know that he will  _never_ fuck you as good as I did," His smile turned into twisted sneer. "When you're on your knees, begging my nephew for his cock, I want you to remember that I could have given you so much more,"

Jackson's face had been red, and he'd felt as if he were going to vomit. "I don't know what you're talking about,"

Peter's eyes narrowed. "You do," He'd said quietly. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, you disgusting, gold digging whore. Now get the fuck out of my bed, and my house,"

The words had stung Jackson as if he'd been slapped. "I-I..."

"Get dressed, get out," Peter had hissed.

Jackson had fought back tears as he'd stumbled around, pulling his pants over thighs still sticky with Peter's cum. Peter had watched him get dressed, his lip curled in disgust. Under Peter's cruel gaze, Jackson had broken, still in the middle of buttoning up his shirt. Peter had smirked as Jackson had tried to hide his tears from him, turning away. "Pathetic," He'd heard Peter whisper. "You're absolutely pathetic,"

Jackson had rushed out of the room then, finished doing up his shirt at the bottom of the stairs. He'd gotten out of the house as quickly as he could, and gone right to Stiles.

Stiles shook his head once Jackson had finished telling him what had happened, and put his arm over his shoulder. "He shouldn't have said those things to you," Stiles said. "That wasn't right,"

"I know," Jackson said quietly. "I know..."

Stiles brushed a piece of Jackson's hair over his ear, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. Jackson was surprised, but there was something comforting in the unassuming kiss. "Can I stay here tonight?" He asked. "I can't deal with my parents right now,"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, yeah of course you can," He said. "My beds big enough for both of us, if you don't mind sharing,"

Jackson nodded. "I don't mind, but Stiles... I don't want to... I mean, I won't want to..."

"Hey, woah, don't worry," Stiles said, holding up his hands. "I've got no expectations. I wouldn't try anything," Jackson smiled thinly, relieved. "But I gotta warn you, I am a cuddler. You may have noticed the last time we were together," Jackson nodded. "Well, it's not just after sex. If I'm in a bed with someone, every time without fail I will wind up cuddling them. Is that okay? Just cuddling, I swear,"

"Yeah, it's okay," Jackson said. "I don't mind... it actually sounds kind of nice, after..." He shrugged.

Stiles grinned. He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss on the side of Jackson's mouth. "Awesome. You want something to eat?" He asked, standing up. "Scott and I were going to order a pizza for dinner,"

"Scott?"

"My roommate,"

"Oh... sure, pizza is fine,"

"Cool. I'm gonna get the cheesy bread too. You look like you need cheesy bread,"

The corner's of Jackson mouth twitched upwards into a quick smile.

Overhearing the words  _pizza_ and  _cheesy bread,_ Stiles' roommate Scott reemerged from his bedroom. "Everything okay out here?" He asked glancing at Jackson.

"He will be," Stiles said, opening up a laptop and clicking around. "We just need to get some greasy cheesy food into him," Scott nodded, and Jackson shook his head. "I'm gonna get one with everything and one meat lovers, that okay?"

"Good with me,"

"You're getting two pizza's?" Jackson asked, raising his eyebrows. "There's three of us,"

Scott frowned. "You think we should get three instead?"

"No, that's not what I meant—"

"I'm getting three, Jackson's right," Stiles said, doing more clicking on the computer. "Three of us, three pizza's,"

Jackson sighed. It was going to be an interesting night.

When the pizza arrived, Stiles put on a movie and they sat around the television, eating pizza and cheesy bread while they watched. Scott and Stiles talked throughout most of the movie, discussing at first the characters and the plot, then moving on to Scott's new girlfriend and how that was going. They talked about the professors at their schools, and the classes they were taking and whether or not there was anyone worth getting to know at either of their schools. Jackson learned that Stiles was bisexual, and had an on and off relationship with a girl named Malia. In school he was working towards a masters in forensic science, and wanted to become a blood spatter analyst. Scott on the other hand was currently attending veterinary college on scholarship. He'd just begun what he hoped was a serious, long term relationship with a girl named Allison. When he said her name, he got a goofy smile on his face.

Jackson also learned that Scott was a severe asthmatic, as he had an asthma attack halfway through the movie and had to use a puffer before he could breathe again.

"So, Jackson," Stiles said, as Scott's breathing returned to normal, and he relaxed back on the couch. "What about you?"

Jackson blinked. "What about me?"

"I told you about Malia, Scott told you about  _Allison—_ " Scott smiled as Stiles said her name, and Stiles rolled his eyes. "Talk to me about Derek. What's happening there?"

Jackson sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't know... last week he told me we couldn't be together, because I was with Peter..."

"And this week you broke up with Peter," Stiles finished. "So you should be good to go, right?"

"Who's Derek?" Scott asked, taking another piece of pizza.

"Peter's nephew," Jackson explained. "And I don't know if we're 'good to go,' because I haven't exactly had an opportunity to talk to him since ending things with Peter. I mean... what if it's not good enough? What if screwing Peter, like, tainted me for him and he's decided he doesn't want me anymore?" What if Peter was right about him, and he was nothing more than a dirty, pathetic slut. What if Derek saw it, too, and wanted nothing to do with him.

Jackson shook his head, trying to get Peter out of his head. Derek didn't think like that, Jackson knew he didn't. Derek was nothing like Peter.

"If he doesn't want you because you've been with Peter, then he's an idiot," Stiles was saying. "You're not  _tainted,_  Jackson, that's stupid,"

"And you don't know he thinks that," Scott added. "What if he wants to be with you just as much as you want to be with him? You have to talk to him first,"

Jackson nodded, and then frowned. "I don't know  _how_ I can talk to him, either. I don't have his phone number or anything, and I can't just go over there without risking running into Peter..."

"You never got his number?" Stiles asked. Jackson shook his head. "What about e-mail? Skype? Nothing?"

"Nothing," Jackson repeated.

Stiles frowned. "That's a problem,"

"Oh, do you think?"

"You know his address, right?" Scott said. "Do a reverse look-up for the phone number,"

"Huh... that's a good idea, actually," Jackson said. "But what if Peter answers?"

"Ask for Derek?" Stiles suggested. Jackson shook his head. "Hang up, call back later? Repeat until Derek answers?"

"He'll know it's me," Jackson mumbled. "Peter will know..."

"Well then I don't know what to tell you," Stiles said. "Sounds like you're S-O-L,"

"Thanks for that," Jackson said, glaring.

After the three pizzas had been mostly demolished, and they'd "watched" two and a half movies, they all went to bed. Jackson slept in his boxers, and Stiles wrapped his arms around his middle as they lay down. He kissed his shoulder, whispered goodnight and was asleep within minutes. Jackson could feel Stiles breath on the back of his neck, warm and steady.

Jackson's head ached, and in the silence and darkness of Stiles' room, he was unable to get Peter's words out of his head. _Do you see yourself for the dirty little slut that you are..._  He pressed himself firmly back against Stiles, trying to dull the pain ... _you'll never be more than a piece of ass for men like me to fuck..._

He thought of everything he had done with Peter over the last few months, everything he had let Peter do to him... and the way he had liked it. He'd liked Peter's roughness, been turned on by the biting and nail scratching and the way Peter had pushed him and his limits and left him sore and aching. Did liking that sort of thing make him dirty? Did it make him a slut? Had he  _deserved_ to be treated the way Peter had treated him?

Jackson closed his eyes, willing Peter's voice to leave him, to let him be. He _knew_ he had done nothing to deserve being spoken to like that. Nothing. He was not wrong, and he was not dirty. Peter was the one who wrong, the one who was cruel and disgusting. People like him and Matt, who treated people as if they were objects to be owned and used and treated as they willed. They were wrong, not him.

Jackson breathed in and out, and did his best to shift his thoughts to something good. He called up images of Derek, and his small smile and soft gaze. He pretended it was Derek's arms that were wrapped around him, and Derek's breath on the back of his neck.

With the warmth of Derek on his mind, Jackson finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Derek was wandering through the house with  _A Field Guide to Demons_ in one hand and a cup of hot tea in the other when he heard the noises. He paused at the foot of the stairs, frowning. The sound was distant, and just barely audible... but it sounded like moaning.

He set his tea and book down and looked around for the source of it, found it coming from the basement. As he walked downstairs the noises got louder and louder... down in the basement, Derek walked into the area with their home theatre... and stopped.

Jackson. Not there, but on the screen. Jackson was naked and kneeling on a bed, clutching at the sheets with balled up fists. He was facing towards the camera, and Derek could see his mouth open in obvious pleasure.

Jackson moaned and cried out, dropping his head as he was pushed forward by the man behind him, whose face was just out of frame. Derek didn't need to see who it was to know. It was the same man who was sitting in the theatre three feet from Derek, watching this with a satisfied look on his face.

"Come to watch the show?" Peter asked, smirking. On the screen, Jackson cried out again as he was pulled backwards and thrown on the bed as Peter found a new position between his legs. Jackson's moans increased in volume as Peter thrust into him again and again, kissing and sucking on the skin of his neck.

Derek was numb, as if he was in some kind of horrified trance. He wanted to look away—to run away, but he felt rooted to the spot.

Peter smirked, watching him. "Hmm, beautiful isn't he?" He said, standing up and walking towards Derek. "You know, Derek, I've been with a lot of people, men and woman... but no one who could  _take it_ quite like Jackson," He stopped in front of him, smiling. "He really turns getting fucked into an art form. I don't know why I didn't video tape him some more... this is only the second tape of him I have, actually. The first was when he was with Stiles, but if you'd seen them together, you could hardly blame me," The grin on Peter's face widened. "Should we watch that one next?"

The numbness had spread throughout his entire body. Derek couldn't feel his limbs, wasn't aware of what they were doing. He turned from the screen to face Peter, and could hear nothing but the blood pounding in his ears as he pulled back his fist and punched Peter in the face. Peter fell backwards with a thunk, and blood spurted from his nose. Derek shook his fist off as he watched Peter writhe on the ground, clutching his nose.

" _What the fuck, Derek?!"_ Peter sputtered as he picked himself up, shaking slightly and glaring, "Was that  _really_  necessary?" He asked.

Derek started towards him again, and Peter backed away. "Turn it off," He demanded. "Turn it off  _now,_ "

Peter's nose stopped bleeding, and he wiped blood off his face with the back of his face. He smiled. "Not enjoying seeing your boyfriend like this?" Peter asked. Derek ground his teeth. "That's right, I know," Without warning, Peter pulled a bloody fist back and caught Derek on his jaw, sending him stumbling backwards as pain rocketed throughout his face. Before he could get his balance, Peter gave him a hard shove, sending him sprawling to the floor. Then he kicked him in the stomach.

As Derek coughed and groaned on the ground, Peter knelt over him, staring down at him with hate and fury in his eyes. Derek couldn't see the screen, but he could hear Jackson whispering Peter's name over and over again, like a plea.  _Please Peter, Peter..._ He closed his eyes, wanting to shut it out, wanting to hear no more.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" Peter asked, his voice calm and steady. "Jackson told me where he goes every night, down to the kitchen for a midnight snack. What he failed to mention was that  _you_ do the same thing. I know you do, Derek." Peter paused, and Derek managed to lift his head and spit at him, landing a big glob on his cheek. Frowning, Peter wiped the spit off his cheek and continued. "I didn't think anything of it at the time, but when I saw you two at the Christmas party... the way his face lit up when he saw you, the way you smiled at him... " Peter smiled. "A sweet sight, really,"

Peter stood up, and kicked Derek again. Derek groaned, doubled over and clutching his ribs. A vein pounded in his forehead, and he seethed. When he got up, he was going to kill Peter. Rip him apart limb from limb. "Now, I was still thinking about what to do with him for  _screwing you_ behind my back... and then he comes to me, and says it's over. That's he's done with me," Peter shook his head. "I asked him if there was someone else, and he lied of course... but I knew. He was leaving me for  _you,_ "

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Derek registered what Peter had just told him. That Jackson had ended things with him. Ended them to be with Derek.

There would be time to appreciate that later. At the moment, all Derek could think of was how he was going to tear out Peter's throat.

When Peter turned around, Derek saw his opportunity. He picked himself up as quickly as possible and launched himself at Peter, shoving him forward with all of his strength. Peter careened towards the screen and smashed into it head fist, hitting his head on the wall behind and leaving a trail of blood as he fell down. Derek pulled him up again and punched him in the stomach, then threw him back onto the floor. Peter moaned and rolled onto his side, clutching at his stomach as blood once again poured from his nose. Derek looked down at him in disgust. "Get out of here, Peter," He spat. "Out of this house, now. This family doesn't need you, it never did,"

Before he left, Derek went to the projector and pulled out Peter's hard drive. The screen flickered and turned blue. Derek raised his hand to smash the thing against the floor, but then changed his mind. Instead he took it with him.

* * *

It quickly became apparent that Peter had no intention of leaving. Fine, let him stay. He didn't have long, anyways. Now that taking Peter down would no longer affect Jackson, it was only a matter of time. In the mean time, the house was big enough to avoid him.

The real problem was Jackson. Derek needed to make sure he was okay, needed to talk to him... if Peter had known that there was something between them, there was no way he hadn't said or done something to hurt Jackson, to make him suffer. Derek needed to make sure he was alright.

The problem was, he didn't have Jackson's phone number. He didn't know where he lived, or how to contact him. He didn't even know his last fucking name, which meant he couldn't look him up on Facebook or in the phonebook.

It was midnight, and Derek was in the kitchen with his usual bowl of cereal when the answer walked in. When he heard the floor creak, his head popped up and before he could think he'd said "Jackson?" Stiles stepped into the kitchen. Right, of course. Jackson had ended things with Peter, he wouldn't be over anymore. "Sorry, I thought you were..."

"Jackson, I know," Stiles said, pulling out a chair at the table and taking a seat. "Well, he's why I'm here," He said. Derek furrowed his brow. "He told me about this, you guys having cereal late at night... so I thought while I was here, I'd come talk to you,"

"Is he okay?" Derek asked, leaning forward. "Have you seen him?"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, he's okay. Kind of shook up, but alright. He's been staying at my place the last couple of days. Peter was kind off... cruel to him, and he didn't want to have to deal with his parents," Stiles reached into his pocket and pulled out a cellphone. "Here, put your number in," He said.

Derek took the phone in his hand. "Does he... does he want to talk to me?" He asked quietly.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yeah, kind of a lot," He said. "He just didn't know your number. And he didn't want to risk calling the house, in case..."

"In case Peter answered," Derek finished. Stiles shrugged and nodded. Derek shook his head. "I should've fucking killed him,"

Stiles glared at him. "You did enough," He said, surprising Derek. "You seriously messed him up, you know? His face is all puffy and blue,"

Derek looked at Stiles in disbelief, wondering how he could sound angry at him. "He deserved it. And more," He said. Stiles furrowed his brow. "He video taped him. When they were together for the last time... he filmed it. I have a feeling Jackson doesn't know,"

"He... he taped him?" Stiles asked, looking slightly horrified. "How do you know?"

Derek glanced away. "Because I walked in on him watching it. He wanted me to see it... see them together," He shook his head, feeling sick. "He... he has one of you, too," Derek said quietly. "At least one of that I know of, when you were with Jackson,"

Stiles was shaking his head. "He wouldn't, he wouldn't do that..." He muttered.

"He did,"

Stiles' mouth was set in a hard line. "That's sick," He mumbled. "That's fucking disgusting..." Stiles looked up at him, and Derek could see fury in his eyes. "I take back what I said. You should fucking kill him,"

* * *

Jackson had just sat down at the kitchen table with a bowl of Cap'n Crunch when there was a knock at the door. He furrowed his brow and glanced at the clock. It was almost one in the morning. Who the hell was at the door at this hour?

Whoever it was knocked again, and with a sigh Jackson got up and walked over to the front door. He dimly registered that he was only in his boxers, but decided he didn't give a shit. If whoever was at the door wanted someone fully clothed to greet them, they should have shown up in the day time.

Jackson pulled the door opened. "Yeah?" He asked, then froze.

Derek was standing in the hallway. He looked tired, and there was a painful looking bruise on his jaw. "Hey," He said.

Jackson stood in the doorway, too surprised to say anything. He felt stuck somehow, and couldn't think of a single thing to do or say. There was so much he'd wanted to say to Derek, so much to tell him... and suddenly he couldn't remember a word of it. "Uh... hey," He managed.

 _Stupid,_ so damn his mind, Jackson rushed towards Derek and pulled him in for a long, slow kiss. He told him how much he cared about him, and how much he wanted to be with him. And in his mind, Derek smiled and stroked his cheek, took his face in his hands and kissed him just like he had at the Christmas party. Bells rang and fireworks went off, and the whole world stopped as they stood there and embraced.

In reality, both Derek and Jackson stood there staring at each other, neither sure of what to say or do. Jackson tried to get a grip on himself, and think of what to say. "Do you... want to come in?" He asked.

Derek nodded, and entered Stiles' apartment. Jackson shut the door behind him. "Can you give me a second?" He asked.

"Yeah, sure," Derek said.

"Back in a moment," Jackson darted into Stiles' room and threw on some clothes as quickly as he could. He glanced at himself in the mirror, and tried half-heartedly to fix his hair. Then he went back out, and found Derek seated at the kitchen table. "So... can I ask what happened to your face?" He asked, sitting down beside him.

Derek nodded. "It was Peter," He said. Jackson raised his eyebrows. "We got into a fight... he looks worse than I do, though,"

"What did you get into a fight about?"

Derek glanced away. "Well... you I guess," He said.

" _Me?"_

Derek nodded. He reached into his jacket, and pulled out what looked like a portable hard drive, and placed it on the table. "Jackson..." He breathed in deeply, and Jackson had the idea that he was not going to like whatever was about to be said. "On this drive, there's a video... of you..." Derek swallowed, and Jackson tensed. "You and Peter," Jackson shut his eyes.  _No no no..._

Jackson didn't have to ask him what he meant. He opened his eyes again, trying to stay calm. He felt like he was going to be sick. "And you watched it?" He asked.

"I... I saw some of it," Derek said, his voice sounding deeply shamed. "I walked in on Peter watching it... that's what we fought about... I took this from him. I was going to destroy, but I thought you should be the one to do it,"

Jackson nodded. "Is it just the one video?" He asked. "Has... he wasn't filming me the entire time, was he?" Jackson honestly thought he might throw up. How much had Derek seen? Would he ever be able to look at him the same way now?

"He said he taped you twice," Derek said. He looked at Jackson, an apology on his face as if this was somehow his fault. He didn't seem disgusted, or repulsed. "Once the last time you were together, and once when you were with Stiles,"

"Okay..." He said slowly. "Thank you for bringing this to me," He put his hand on the hard drive, wanting to smash it with his fists and throw it against the wall, wanting to stomp on it until every piece of it was broken. Even after the way Peter had spoken to him, it was still difficult to believe that he had violated his trust like this.

"I promise you Jackson, this is the last time Peter does something like this. I'll make sure he'll never hurt anyone again," Derek said.

Jackson looked up at Derek with a furrowed brow. "You can't promise that..." He said.

"I can," Derek said. "Do you remember I told you about that lawyer I dated? She was trying to build a case against my father, for embezzling. When he died, she and everyone else she was working with gave up. But it wasn't my father who was embezzling. It was Peter," Derek paused, as if waiting for Jackson to say something. When he didn't, he continued. "For a while now, Laura and I have been gathering our own evidence... and we've found a lot of it. We're going to show it to someone soon. With any luck, it'll be enough to put him away for a long, long time,"

Jackson's mouth opened. "What?"

"Peter has been stealing from our company for  _years._ He's not going to get away with it anymore,"

Before Jackson could formulate some response, the door to the apartment opened, and Stiles came in. He frowned when he saw Derek. "How long have you been here?"

Derek shrugged. "Ten minutes?"

Stiles looked baffled. " _How_ did you get here so fast? Did you break like every law on the way?" Again, Derek only shrugged. Jackson took that as a  _yes._ Stiles shook his head, and turned to Jackson. "Did he tell you about Peter?"

"About the videos?" Jackson asked. Stiles nodded, taking a seat across from him at the table. "Yeah, he did. I was thinking we could destroy it together,"

Stiles nodded. "Sounds good. I say we chuck it out the window, and then stomp on the pieces,"

"Can't we just throw it against the wall?"

"Sure, if you want to ruin the wall," Stiles said. "And I don't, by the way,"

"Out the window it is," Jackson said. Stiles nodded, and continued to stand there. "Stiles, can you do me a favour right now, and... well, leave?"

Stiles looked surprised for a moment, then glanced at Derek and nodded. "Night," He said, before disappearing into his bedroom, leaving Derek and Jackson alone again. Jackson looked at Derek, and tried to think of a way to start a conversation that would end with them both confessing their feelings and then falling into each others arms. Was there a way to start a conversation like that? Somehow Jackson doubted it.

"Derek..." Jackson said slowly, still trying to determine what the rest of the sentence was going to be. Derek raised his eyebrows and looked expectantly at him. Jackson glanced away, and then back at him. This was stupid. Derek was sitting right in front of him, and there was nothing stopping them from being together now. All Jackson had to do was suck it up, get the words out... and hope Derek still felt the same way. "There's something I want to talk to you about," He said, looking Derek straight in the eye. He decided to just go for it. "Us. You and me, what's happening there?"

Derek looked surprised, and for a moment Jackson regretted being so blunt. He should have worked up to it more or something. "Do you still want something to happen? Between us?"

"Yeah, I do," Jackson said. He bit his lip. "...You?"

Derek glanced away, and Jackson tensed slightly, readying himself for a negative answer. Then Derek looked back, leaned in and kissed him. Jackson was surprised for a moment, but almost instantly felt himself relax. He would take this for a  _yes,_ too.  _Thank fucking God._

Derek pulled Jackson into his lap as they kiss, and Jackson wrapped his arms around his neck. "Of course I want to be with you, Jackson," Derek mumbled against his lips. "How could I want anything else?"

Jackson could not stop himself from smiling as he kissed Derek back. All he could think and all he could feel was  _finally._ It seemed as it had taken years and years for them to get here, to realize their feelings and push aside the obstacles in their path. Had he really only met Derek a few months ago? What the hell had he been doing with himself before that?

It wasn't as if he thought every one of his problems would disappear and that his life would be perfect, now that he was with Derek. But he did know that going forward, whatever problems he had to deal with and whatever struggles came his way, they would not be faced alone.

* * *

**ONE YEAR LATER**

* * *

After a particularly  _long_ and tiring day at school, Jackson went home and collapsed on the couch, groaning. A moment later, Derek came wandering out of his office and sat down next to him. Jackson shuffled up on the couch, and put his head in Derek's lap. "I'm dropping out," He said.

Derek stroked his hair. "That's the third time this week," He said. "Is that a record?"

Jackson shook his head slightly. "Last year, finals. I tried to quit every day,"

"Ah, of course. How could I forget,"

Jackson groaned again, and put his hands on his face. After a lot of deliberation, and some encouragement from Derek, halfway through the previous year he had finally chosen a major. Sports Management. It was a broad degree, that dealt with the business side of sports. Jackson was interested in what he was learning, but it was also really fucking difficult.

"Can't I just go back to being undeclared?" Jackson moaned. "School was easier before I was actually working towards something specific,"

"You can do whatever you want," Derek said simply. Jackson glared up at him, and Derek smiled. "What? You can,"

"Fine, I'll stay in school," Jackson grumbled. "You've twisted my arm, you bastard,"

"Good," Derek said. He reached for something on the end table next to him. "Moving on, I unpacked another box today, and I found something," He placed a package on Jackson's chest, and Jackson lifted his head to see what it was. The package was small and skinny, wrapped in red paper, and tied with a white bow. "It's the Christmas present I got you, last year..." He said.

"I remember," Jackson said, sitting up and taking the present in his hand. "You kept it?"

Derek shrugged. "Seemed like the thing to do," He said. "I know you said you didn't want anything from me, but I thought maybe enough time had passed now that you felt a bit differently,"

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I think I've changed my mind on that count," He said.

Derek nudged him with his arm. "Open it,"

Jackson pulled off the ribbon, and tore the wrapping off. Underneath was a black box. Jackson opened the lid, and found an expensive looking pen inside. The pen was shaped like a lacrosse stick. "I thought you thought lacrosse was stupid," He said.

Derek shrugged. "You don't,"

Jackson smiled, and wrapped his arms over Derek's shoulders. "Thank you, I love it," He said, kissing him softly. He pulled back, and looked at the pen. "My lacrosse coach in high school had a pen like this... although, this one looks like it cost a lot more money"

"It probably did," Derek said, turning Jackson's face gently towards him and kissing him again. Jackson closed his eyes as they kissed, moaning quietly. Derek felt so good, so right.

The last year had not been easy, for either of them. The case against Peter had gone to court, and the trial had gone on for almost the entire year. It was highly publicized, covered by every major news paper and channel. Peter plead not guilty, and his lawyers did everything they could to twist and destroy the evidence that had been gathered against him. But in the end, the evidence Laura and Derek had gathered was solid, and their lawyers were the best in the country. By the trials end, they'd shown Peter to be the manipulative, cruel and thieving monster that he was.

Unfortunately, part of the way they had won the case had been to tarnish Peter's reputation in every way they could. Somehow, they'd found out about Peter's proclivity to pay people for sex, and had used it against him. Jackson and Stiles' names had both been dragged out, along with countless others who had also been in their position. Having the world know about his private business had not been easy to deal with.

Jackson had felt ashamed and humiliated. But throughout it all, Derek had been his constant, the person Jackson knew he could count on to get him through it. He meant more to him than he'd thought a person ever could, and he loved him like he'd never loved anyone else.

Jackson attended court the day of the sentencing. He watched Peter as the judge handed it out, watched him hang his head in horror as he contemplated the next 25 years of his life. He felt strange, watching this person he'd used to care for having his freedom taken away from him. He wanted to enjoy it more than he did. Still, he didn't let himself feel sorry for him for too long. After everything Peter had done to him, he didn't want to waste any more time than he had too on feeling pity for the man.

Derek'd had his own difficulties. At the trials start he'd run into his ex again, the woman who'd tricked him into a relationship at the age of 16, so she could gather evidence to use against his family. Her name was Kate, and as they'd unfortunately discovered, she was the aunt of the girl Scott was seeing. She was staying with her family in town, and while she was there she'd shown up the trial more than once.

Jackson had never seen anyone or anything get to Derek the way Kate did. The woman showed no remorse for all of the pain she'd caused Derek, and even all these years later, Derek was still feeling the effects of what she'd done. Now it was Jackson's turn to be there for Derek, the way Derek was always there for him. He'd listen to him rant, held him when he felt helpless and lost and told him it was going to be okay. He told him that he was stronger than her, and that she was nothing.

They got through it together, and eventually the trial ended and Kate left town again... Jackson hoped she would never come back.

Now that Peter was in prison, Laura and Derek had decided that there was no reason they needed to live in such an enormous home. They'd sold the house, and Laura had bought a beautiful penthouse apartment downtown, close to the headquarters of  _Hale Realty,_ which she was now CEO of. She'd spent the last year building her new home theatre, and while it was smaller than her other one, it was still pretty damn sweet.

Derek and Jackson had moved into their own apartment, near Jackson's school. It was much smaller than Laura's, but still larger than Jackson felt was necessary. What did they need two guest bedrooms for? And four washrooms—they were two people! It seemed excessive. Derek disagreed. He thought it was a nice size. Cozy, even.

After a lot of arguing, they had agreed that Jackson would not pay rent. Whatever money he had needed to go towards school. Derek had agreed to renegotiate, once Jackson had graduated and gotten himself a full time job, but until then Jackson lived there for free.

"What are we doing for dinner tonight?" Jackson asked, as their kisses slowed. Kissing was important, but so was food. "I kind of feel like sushi,"

Derek nodded. "Sushi is fine with me... in or out?"

"In," Jackson replied. "I need to put on sweat pants and veg, for the sake of my health,"

Derek grinned. "Well, if it's for your health..." He said, moving Jackson gently off of him and standing up. "I think we still have the menu for that place we both liked somewhere, give me a minute,"

"They probably have a menu online," Jackson pointed out, but Derek was already digging through the pile of take out menus he kept. He sighed loudly.

"Found it," Derek victoriously declared, pulled a pamphlet from the stack. "What should I get?"

"Mmm, everything," Jackson said, flipping over on the couch and closing his eyes. "I'm starved,"

Derek nodded. "Everything, got it," He said, dialling the number of the sushi place. "Hello? I'd like to place an order for take out..."

When Derek got back with the food, they sat on the couch and watched television while eating the copious amounts of sushi that Derek had ordered. He hadn't exactly followed Jackson's instructions to get everything, but it was pretty close to it.

"My parents called while you were out," Jackson said, trying and failing to grab a maki roll with his chopsticks. Eventually he gave up and used his fingers to stuff the sushi into his mouth. "They want us to come over to dinner tomorrow night,"

Derek nodded. "I've got no other plans," he said.

"Obviously,"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. If you had plans, I'd have known about them. That's all..."

"Uh-huh..." Derek said, eying him out of the corner of his eye. Jackson smiled. "Eat your sushi and quit smirking,"

Jackson rolled his eyes, still smiling. "Yes, sir,"

Derek shook his head. "Come here," He said, gesturing for Jackson to lean in. He did, and Derek kissed him quickly. "Fishy," He said, grinning.

They continued to talk and tease as they ate, sometimes paying attention to the television but more often than not ignoring it. Jackson smiled to himself. There was nothing special about this night, if anything it was absolutely average for them... and Jackson couldn't have felt more grateful. For the first time since he could remember, he felt no clawing emptiness, no raging need for something more, better or different. He was exactly where he wanted to be, and with the only person he ever wanted to be with.

Life was not perfect. It was difficult, and confusing and sometimes painful. But with Derek, Jackson had also learned that it could be good. Very good indeed.


End file.
